


Snow

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, War Of The Five Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 153,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Ned claims Jon as his bastard, but after some deep thinking tells Catelyn the truth (assumes R+L=J) Shall have deep resounding changes to the way Cat sees Jon and shall influence Jon's choices with regards to joining the Night's Watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snow

The rebellion was over at least officially, after Robert Baratheon had smashed Rhaegar Targaryen’s chest in and killed him at the Trident, the royal forces either scattered or bent the knee to the rebels. Robert Baratheon injured during the fighting sent his best friend and the Lord of Winterfell Eddard Stark south with a force of men to take King’s Landing by any means necessary, along the way Eddard learnt that Tywin Lannister was marching with a host of men toward King’s Landing also, and given the fact that Lord Tywin had remained neutral throughout the war and had of course been King Aerys hand for the majority of the mad king’s reign Eddard did not know whether or not Tywin would fight to protect the city or not and so raced against time to get to the city ahead of the Lannister host. However, he arrived late and found the city gates already open and King’s Landing being sacked by Lannister men, it became clear that Tywin Lannister had chosen a side, the victorious side. Ned and his six guards as they were rode hard for the Red Keep and upon entering it found a scary sight, gold cloaks were lying dead on the floor as were simply servants and other members of the household, Eddard rode hard for the throne room and at that point simply wished to be the one to end Aerys Targaryen’s life or reign himself he did not much mind which it was. However, upon entering the throne room he found to his horror and surprise the Mad King lying in a pool of blood on the steps leading up to the Iron Throne whilst Jamie Lannister sat on the throne with his armour on and his lion’s head helm on his lap and his sword drawn and bloodied it did not take a genius to figure out what had happened, Jamie Lannister had broken his vows as a member of the Kingsguard and had killed the King he had sworn to protect.

Once Robert arrived in the city, to a hero’s welcome he was sat on the Iron Throne and Lord Eddard was also present when Tywin Lannister laid the lifeless corpses of Elia Martell and her children Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon at the foot of the throne as a sign of the Lannister’s fealty to their new king. Eddard was horrified the princess and her children had been innocents and their deaths did nothing to the cause of the rebels, they solved nothing they proved nothing. Eddard spent the next five days arguing with Robert about this and Jamie Lannister’s actions, he argued that Jamie Lannister should either be sent to the wall or have his life declared forfeit for betraying his most solemn vow as a member of the Kingsguard, Robert and Jon Arryn the man Eddard considered a father argued stringently against that saying it would be wrong to reward the Lannisters with the execution of Tywin’s son. Eddard was also so stunned and haunted by the sight of the Princess and the children’s bodies that he argued stringently for Tywin Lannister to be severly reprimanded, this was of course shot down by Robert who argued that Tywin Lannister had done the right thing and had removed “Dragonspawn” from the capital and that the Targaryens would be gone for good once the siege of Storm’s End was lifted and Stannis could sail for Dragonstone. Eddard could not agree with Robert and the two fell out over it and were not speaking to one another when Eddard received a raven from Ashara Dayne informing him of where his sister had been kept throughout the rebellion by Prince Rhaegar, granted permission by the new hand of the King Jon Arryn, Eddard rode with six other companions first to Storm’s End where the Tyrells dipped their banners and bent the knee, and then onto the Tower of Joy to rescue his sister.

* * *

What he found there both worried and confirmed much of what Eddard had thought had actually transpired between his sister and Prince Rhaegar and so he tried to get the knights of the Kingsguard to stand down but alas they would not relent.

_“I looked for you on the Trident,” Ned said to them._

_“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered._

_“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell._

_“When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”_

_“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”_

_“I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”_

_“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne._

_“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”_

_“Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell._

_“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”_

_“Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm._

_“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold._

_Ned’s wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three._

_“And now it begins,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light._

_“No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends.”_

_Ned drew Ice from its sheath and advanced on the White Bull first swinging and slashing his sword for all he was worth managing to nick and dent the man’s armour, but the White Bull was still strong despite his age and managed to do the same to Ned, they both danced a furious dance around each other cutting and slashing at one another until they were both tired and perhaps beyond fighting any longer, but then Ned heard a cry come from the tower and drove him on he swung once more and managed to knock the White Bull to his knees and then in one swift notion the White Bull’s head was parted from his body. Whilst Ned had been fighting the Lord Commander of Aerys’ Kingsguard his companions had been fighting Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell, Ned watched rooted to the spot as a severly wounded Ser Oswell managed to kill loyal Theo Wull and then in the next swing of his sword brought down Martyn Cassel. Ned advanced forward but before he could take on Ser Oswell, he found his path blocked by the Sword of the Morning Ser Arthur Dayne, and soon found himself engaged in a ferocious dance of swords with the finest knight the realm had ever seen. The sound of steel meeting steel was almost enough to drown out the increasing number of cries coming from the Tower, which only forced Ned to swing his sword faster and with more anger, this man was preventing him from getting his sister. However, Ned’s fight with the Old Bull had severly drained him and he could feel his energy beginning to drain he  feared for the worst when Ser Arthur managed to force him to his knees with one quick strike of his sword, Ned looked at Ser Arthur unable to lift his sword arm to bring Ice up to block what would inevitably be the killing blow only to find Ser Arthur staggering back blood oozing from his throat, as Ser Arthur fell to the ground clutching his throat, Ned looked on amaze, little Howland Reed one of Ned’s truest friends since this madness had all begun had buried his spear deep into the Sword of the Morning’s throat ending his life. Howland helped Ned to his feet and Ned saw that Ser Oswell was lying on his back on the ground blood oozing out of his helm, his sword buried into Ethan Glover’s chest, Willam Dustin however was still alive and was staring unseeingly into the land. Howland looked at Ned and said “Go my Lord, go to your sister I shall deal with Lord Willam.” Ned needed no further encouragement and sprinted into the Tower and ran up the flight of stairs all the while hearing his sister’s voice get fainter and fainter._

_Eventually he burst into her room, and saw her lying on a bed of blood clutching a crown of blue roses in her left hand whilst she cradled a babe in her right, pushing the babe up closer to her breast to feed. She turned to look at him as he kneeled beside her bed and she gave him a weak and watery smile “Ned... I knew you’d come.... I’m so sorry I never meant for all of this to happen..... Father, Brandon..... I’m so sorry Ned. Can, Can you forgive me?”_

_Ned could only manage to nod he could feel the grip his sister had on his hand beginning to weaken and he feared for the worst. His fears where worsened when she gave a cough that seemed to wrack her whole body and blood slowly began to pool at the bottom of the bed, “Ned, I need you to promise me something.” Ned shook his head he’d promise her the world if she could just hold on, Lyanna though was insistent “I need you to promise me Ned. Promise me you’ll look after my son, my babe. Keep him safe from Robert, keep him safe from those who would use him. Promise me Ned.”_

_Ned felt helpless what was he to do but looking at his sister who he knew though he did not wish to accept it was going to die, looking at the boy she cradled to her chest his nephew he knew he could not refuse her “I promise Lya. He’ll be safe with me.”_

_knew he could not refuse her “I promise Lya. He’ll be safe with me.”_

_Lyanna smiled at that and then her grip on his hand completely loosened though he still held onto her and she closed her eyes and died with a smile on her lips. Ned would never remember how long he spent there just kneeling beside his sister’s body, but it must have been a long time for he found himself being shaken out of his stupor by Howland, and found that his nephew was crying obviously hungry for more food, but of course his mother was unable to provide it for him. Ned looked up from where he was kneeling to find Howland looking at Lyanna’s child and then at him, Ned was about to say something when Howland merely said “There is a wet nurse waiting outside the room my Lord, she calls herself Wylla says she has been here for the past few days. Do you wish for her to come in?” Ned merely nodded yes he supposed she ought to come in. And so it was that Howland helped Ned stand up as Wylla the wet nurse took Lyanna’s child away from her and fed him, Ned merely stood leaning on Howland looking at his sister’s lifeless body for a long time trying to think of what he was going to do to explain this to Robert, to Catelyn. He could not tell his friend the truth for all though it pained him to lie, Robert would want the babe dead and that was something Ned could not and would not allow. After a time when the babe had quietened down Ned merely asked Wylla to wear something warm and to make sure the babe was warm as well for they would be riding out shortly. Upon hearing this Howland turned to him and said “Where are we to ride to my lord?”_

_Ned merely looked at his friend before saying “Starfall.” And so it was that Eddard Stark, Howland Reed, Willam Dustin, Wylla and the babe whom Eddard named Jon rode for Starfall where Ned intended to give House Dayne their sword back and inform them of Ser Arthur’s death. Upon arriving at Starfall he was greeted by Ashara Dayne, he had danced with Ashara at Harrenhal and thought himself half in love with her, she had been beautiful then, she was still beautiful now but she looked like she had lived through hell, and had just about survived he supposed she had they all had. She did not react when he informed her of the nature of her brother’s death merely thanked him for informing her and for bringing Dawn back, and Ned was about to leave had already mounted his horse when she said “And what do you plan to do about your sister’s bastard Lord Stark? I am sure your child killer of a friend will not appreciate you keeping the product of his love’s rape?”_

_Ned merely looked at her before replying in a voice as cold as he could make it “I know not what you mean my lady, for Jon is mine own child sired during the war. Robert shall have no cause to wonder about his parentage.” Ashara merely snorted at that and walked inside._

_As Ned and his small party made their way back to north to Winterfell they stopped at night at inns and at one of these inns Ned sent a raven to the capital to inform Robert of Lyanna’s death and begging leave to bury her in the crypts of Winterfell. The journey north took them a month and a half, in which time Ned had managed to perfect the lie that Jon Snow was his own bastard child, though the lie grated on him, he knew that there was no risk of the truth of Jon’s parentage getting out for he had had, Howland, Willam and Wylla all swear oaths to the gods both old and new to keep their silence. When Ned arrived in Winterfell he was greeted by his younger brother Benjen, who informed him of all that had been going on during the course of his absence, Ned noted with some pride that Benjen had truly grown up though he did seem to be rather too serious for a boy of fifteen though he supposed the amount of tragedy that had befallen their family was only bound to have some sort of affect on them all. It was therefore no true surprise to Ned when one day a few days before Catelyn and Robb’s arrival that Benjen came to his solar and informed him that he wished to join the Night’s Watch Ned merely nodded his acceptance and said that if Benjen ever changed his mind then he would always have a place waiting for him at Winterfell._

* * *

The day Ned’s wife and son arrived in Winterfell had been one Ned had looked forward to with equal parts excitement and dread, excitement because he would be seeing his newborn son for the first time, dread because of the lie he would have to tell Catelyn about Jon in order to protect all of them from Robert’s wrath. After Ned had greeted his wife and met his son for the first time, he was leading them both to the nursery when they heard the sounds of a baby crying, Ned felt Catelyn stiffen beside him, and heard the hurt and the anger in her voice when she asked “What was that?”

Ned turned to look at her and said the lie he had been practicing ever since he had ridden from the Tower of Joy “That was my son Jon, he shall be staying with us.”

Catelyn as expected took the news badly, even more so when she saw Jon close by for Jon looked startlingly like Ned and like Lyanna, she turned to him and said “You intend to raise your bastard with your trueborn son? What have I done to deserve such an insult my lord?!”

Ned felt himself get angered at her accusation and replied in a tone of iron “He is of my blood, he is a stark if not in name then in blood and he deserves to be raised in Winterfell.”

After that a month passes by where Ned and Catelyn are cordial to each other but nothing more and Ned worries if perhaps theirs will not be a happy marriage because of the decision he has made and the lie he has had to tell. One day however, Catelyn enters his chambers at night after Robb and Jon have been put to bed, and Ned finds himself looking at her and drinking her in, she blushes at his attention and says something that he had not been expecting “Have I displeased you my lord?”

Whatever do you mean my lady?” Ned asks confused.

“Have I displeased you? Is that why you no longer visit my chambers?” Catelyn asks.

Ned is rendered speechless for a moment before saying “No my lady, its just that I thought that perhaps you would not want, that you would not want to lie with me?”

Catelyn laughs nervously before replying “But my lord it is your right and besides the castle will begin to talk unless we sleep together.” And so it is that for the first time in a month, Ned and Catelyn make love passionately and furiously, afterwards when they are both sated and are trying to calm their breathing, with Catelyn’s head lying on Ned’s chest, Ned’s fingers absentmindedly playing with a stand of her hair, Catelyn turns up to face him and asks a question that he has dreaded anyone asking him for the longest time except the way she phrases it catches him off guard he will reflect later “Is Ashara Dayne, Jon’s mother my lord?” It is the first time she has mentioned Jon since she arrived at Winterfell and saw him in the nursery, and in that question Ned can hear the hurt in her voice and the need to know the truth. Ned is silent for a moment thinking about everything that has happened to his family over the past four years, the death and the tragedy, and how he swore a vow to always be faithful and truthful to his wife and how everything that was his was hers, but surely the secret that he keeps is too much for him to share, for the secret itself and the fact that Jon lives is treason and Catelyn and Robb could pay for it with their lives, but then Ned looks down into Catelyn’s stunningly blue Tully eyes that seem to beseeching him to tell her the truth that Ned finds that he cannot deny her

Taking a deep breath, Ned says “No my lady, Ashara Dayne is not Jon’s mother.” He hesitates unsure of how to phrase the next bit, then decides to go for the truth and sighs then says “What I am about to tell you must not leave this room, no one else can ever know or it would mean our lives. Do I have your promise my lady.” When Catelyn nods her head in the affirmative Ned continues “Jon’s mother is, is my sister Lyanna.” He stops and waits for what he has just said to sink in.

Then she speaks “Lyanna my lord? I don’t, but then that would mean.” Ned nods

“Yes Rhaegar Targaryen is Jon’s father, he and my sister ran away together, and after the sack of King’s Landing Jon became, Jon Targaryen, first of his name, rightful king of the seven kingdoms. I promised her I’d keep him safe my lady, I couldn’t just leave him there for anyone to find and Robert would have demanded his death no matter that he was Lya’s. “ He knows he is talking quickly is practically begging her to understand the reasons for why he has done what he has done.

She says nothing for what seems like an age but then opens her mouth and says “I understand my lord, and since half the people here seem to already think he is your bastard it would serve us well to keep it that way, it will draw less attention to him and keep him away from Robert and the Lannister’s attention.”

Ned breathes a sigh of relief when he hears her say that and though he will wonder later why she did not demand that he claim Jon as Brandon’s bastard he will be grateful for the love she shows to Jon, and how she accepts him into their family, and how Jon and Robb grow up close as brothers can be, and though Ned knows the day will come when Jon will want to know, will have to know the truth he prays for that day to be far into the future, for watching Jon play with Robb and Sansa and later Arya is something that Ned holds close to his heart and he prays that his children and his nephew will never know the suffering that caused Ned’s family to be ripped apart in the past. Though he knows somewhere in the back of his mind that perhaps that is a fantasy for as their house words say “Winter Is Coming.”


	2. To Love A Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which we see Catelyn become uber protective of Jon.

When Catelyn’s husband tells her the truth of Jon Snow’s parentage, she is not sure how to react. She is equal parts relieved that Eddard-Ned- remained faithful to her throughout the war but is also very worried, they are harbouring one of the last scions of a house that Robert Baratheon the new king and her husband’s oldest friend hates with a passion, if anywhere to find out about Jon Snow’s parentage it would mean all of their heads on spikes no matter that Eddard was Robert’s oldest friend, the Lannisters Catelyn has a sneaking suspicion would never rest until their hold on the throne was secure. Catelyn looks up to see her husband looking at her closely, she can see it in his eyes that he is begging her to accept what he has told her and to not ask him to send Jon Snow away, for a moment Catelyn hesitates she knows that the majority of Winterfell believe Jon Snow to be her husband’s bastard and how not so when he looks so much like him, so much like Lyanna whom Catelyn met once at Harrenhal the tournament that started this all. But then she remembers what it was like growing up without a mother, how Lysa and Edmure always had her to fall back to, to soothe their hurts and their worries, to play with them and to give them attention when father was to busy being a Lord to really pay any attention to his children, she remembers how at times that felt so suffocating for her, for though she knew how to play mother to her younger siblings, there were times as a child growing up after her mother’s death that she desperately wanted her mother there for guidance for help, for a loving embrace at the end of a long day, and it is in that moment that Catelyn makes her decision, the words of her husband’s house may be “Winter is Coming,” but the words of House Tully, the house she was born into are “Family, Duty, Honour” in that order, Jon Snow is as much her family now as he is her husband’s he may not be of her own body, but he is of her blood, and if protecting him and loving him means that her own honour and that of her husband’s is brought into question so be it, for she has learnt over the years that there is more to life than honour there is love which is the most important aspect of family life. And so she feels she speaks the truth when she tells her husband that she shall keep to the pretence that Jon Snow is his bastard for his protection no matter what the servants will say, she will not let Jon Snow go without love nor protection, for she is not a Lannister.

As the years role by, Catelyn begins to think she made the right decision that night that her husband told her the truth of Jon Snow’s parentage. When Robb and Jon are still babes, she dismissed the wet nurse Wylla, telling her Lord Husband that their children will not know another’s breast other than her own, she can see the surprise on both Eddard and Maester Luwin’s faces when she says this, but she had decided that if she were to treat Jon as one of her own then she would do all the things she would do if he were of her own body. When Robb and Jon are learning to walk on unsteady feet, her husband is out visiting various bannermen, and so he does not see the way both Robb and Jon hold onto each other as they take their first tentative steps towards Catelyn, who kneels down not too far away with her hands out stretched and when Robb stumbles into her embrace he pulls Jon in with him, and Catelyn feels her heart grow with love and pride that her son and her nephew are already so close. When Robb and Jon first learn to speak her lord husband is present, Catelyn had brought Robb and Jon to his solar one afternoon, and Robb had delighted them both by shouting Winterfell at the top of his lungs followed quickly by the word North, which soon was reduced to just no, and became Robb’s favourite word along with Winterfell, earning one of those rare chuckles from Eddard who said that it was a good sign that the heir to Winterfell was already thinking about it at this young age. Jon’s first word however, surprises both Catelyn and Eddard, Jon even at this young age is quiet and often in Robb’s shadow, following everything Robb does, but when he says his first words , he says them very quietly so that both Catelyn and Eddard have to lean in to hear him, his first two words are “Mother” closely followed by “Father”, before he stumbles into Catelyn and fits himself into her arms so that she is hugging him, Catelyn can feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes as her husband puts a hand on her shoulder, when she looks up into his face she can see that it is full of emotion as well. Catelyn feels her heart swell with love for her nephew, for her husband for the family that they have created, for though Jon Snow is not of her body, she loves him all the same for he is of her blood, bastard though he maybe he is her bastard, and she shall defy anyone to challenge her on that

And so as the years go by and Robb and Jon grow up, Jon spends as much time as he can with Catelyn, whom he still thinks of his mother, and when Sansa is born, it is Jon is the first after Ned- for he has become Ned now-, and Catelyn herself that holds her and he looks at his sister- cousin really- with such awe and love that Catelyn feels her heart swell with even more love for her nephew. Of course when both Robb and Jon look at her once more, they both promise to look after her and protect her like the knights in the songs and Catelyn knows that they will young though they are. Catelyn knows that Ned keeps an eye on Jon, just to make sure that no prominent Targaryen traits come to the surface, so as to not raise suspicion amongst anyone, but they have both noticed how in certain light Jon’s usually grey eyes can look violet, there is also an incident that Ned will later say reminds him of something Lyanna had done once, just before news reaches them of the Greyjoy Rebellion, Robb and Jon are six years old Sansa is three, and a stable boy makes the mistake of breaking one of Sansa’s dolls causing Sansa to cry, Robb runs to tell Catelyn whilst Jon tries to comfort Sansa, and also ends up scaring the stable boy, simply by glaring at him in a way that reminds Catelyn of how her Septa as a girl had told her that the great Targaryen kings of the past used to look at those who had wronged them, how her uncle had told her King Aegon had looked on the field of battle before the Stepstones and it gives Catelyn chills.  
\--------------------  
Ned is away fighting in the Greyjoy Rebellion when Arya is born, looking completely Stark with the dark hair, long face and grey eyes, and Catelyn can’t help the wide smile that breaks out across her face when she hears the awe in Jon’s voice when he says “She looks just like me.” Jon, Catelyn notices spends most of his time after that playing with Arya, he is the one who can get her to quiet when no one else, and when Arya first learns to walk it is to Jon that she toddles up to, and it is Jon’s name she says when she learns to speak. Catelyn does notice how jealous Sansa seems to get that she does not have both her brothers attentions anymore, for though Robb still plays with her Jon is thoroughly occupied with Arya, and so it falls to Catelyn to reassure Sansa that no Jon hasn’t stopped loving her, he still does and always will, it’s just that Arya does not seem to want to give him up yet, and so it is that a few days later that Catelyn can here the laughing of children in the courtyard and when she looks out her window she can see Sansa and Arya running away from Jon and Robb both of whom are throwing snow balls at them, the scene brings a smile to her face.  
\---------------  
The first time the issue of Jon’s surname or lack of one is brought up is when Theon has been staying with them for a year, Robb is the one who comes running into her solar when Ned is there to tell them that Jon has disappeared. This of course immediately causes them both to panic and the follow Robb out of the room whilst he tries to explain that they were playing at with wooden swords when Theon called Jon a bastard, and when Jon asked him why he said that, Theon replied that his name was Snow because his father slept with someone who was not his mother, Robb then stops and looks at her and says “but that’s not true is it mother? Jon’s surname is Stark just like mine isn’t it mother?” Catelyn knows not what to say to her son and so is grateful when Ned asks Robb to lead him to Theon, leaving Catelyn to look for Jon though she has a rather large suspicion as to where he could be, so like Ned he is in some regards. 

In the seven years she has spent in Winterfell she has never truly become used to the godswood or the Weirwood trees with their weeping faces, but she finds Jon kneeling beside the largest tree in the godswood sniffling quietly. She walks up to him quietly and kneels next to him placing a reassuring arm around his shoulders, and when he turns to look at her she feels her heart lurch, his eyes are red, raw with tears, and his hands are curled up into fists at his side and asks in the smallest voice she thinks she has ever heard “Is it true? Is it true what Theon said? That my surname is Snow because father laid with another woman, is that why?”

Catelyn hesitates she is not sure how to respond, shall she tell him the truth or not? She looks at Jon, who looks like his whole world has been brought down around him and decides that no now is not the time to tell him nor is it the place, instead she merely shakes her head and says “ Oh sweetling, do not listen to Theon, he was only teasing you, though what he should not have said what he did. No your surname is Snow because when you were born there was such heavy snowfall outside, I decided that Snow would fit you better.” 

Jon gives a shaky laugh and says “But I am a Stark, and you are my mother? Aren’t you mother?”

Catelyn feels her heart tense at his words and with her own voice shaking says “Of course you are a Stark sweetling and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, and of course I am your mother sweetling who else would be? Hmmm.” And with that she leans over and begins to tickle his sides causing Jon to break out into laughter, later when she and Jon are walking back to the castle she asks Jon “If you wish sweetling your father can write to the King and ask you to make Stark your last name as well.”

Jon looks up at her through his dark curls and his eyes so like Ned’s look at her as if assessing whether she means it before he replies “No mama, I don’t wish to have the name Stark, I have you and father and Robb, and Sansa and Arya to make me feel like a Stark I don’t need the name to know what I am.”

Once they arrive back at the Castle Jon will run into Ned’s outstretched arms and apologies for scaring him and Robb and Theon will apologies to Jon and then the boys will run on and continue to play, and Catelyn will think about what Jon said to her on the way back to the castle, his words sounded far too wise for a child of only seven, and she knows that Prince Rhaegar was considered smart even as a child and she knows then were Jon’s almost solemn wisdom comes from and feels a tinge of sadness that her boy- for he is her boy no matter the truth of his parentage- has inherited such solemness. Later she speaks to Ned about possibly writing to Robert to legitimise Jon, but then they both decide against it deciding that perhaps asking that would raise questions that both of them would be uncomfortable answering or trying to form responses to.  
\-----------  
Eight years later when her boys come back from watching an execution of a deserter from the Night’s Watch and they arrive with six direwolves in their hands, Catelyn nearly fates, direwolves had not been seen south of the Wall for hundreds of years, but it seems like the gods have sent them for her children especially, a feeling that is reinforced when Jon tells her that the pups mother was killed by a Stag. The pups are all given out each of the Stark children, Robb names his Greywind, Jon names his albino direwolf Ghost a fitting name, Sansa names hers Lady, Arya names hers Nymeria, Bran does not know what to name his direwolf and ponders over various names for hours, Rickon her little babe names his Shaggydog, and it appears her children and their direwolves share an strong bond for wherever her children go so to do their direwolves. 

Later that same day a raven arrives in King’s Landing the first to arrive in Winterfell for two years, and it bears dark news, when Catelyn goes to the godswood to tell Ned that Jon Arryn has died and that the King rides north, she sees the panic in his eyes for she feels it to. With the King and more importantly so many Lannisters in Winterfell they will have to be especially careful with how they act around Jon, they will of course still be loving with him but they can’t act in such a way that will arouse suspicion for Jon is meant to be Ned’s bastard and if Catelyn were seen to be acting or treating him as more than that it would raise major suspicion amongst the lions and of course the Queen would more than likely speak to the Spider and their secret would be out.  
\-------------  
As it turns out they needn’t have worried about how the royal party reacts to Jon Snow’s presence for they hardly notice him, though when Robert asks Ned to take him to the crypts to visit Lyanna, Catelyn sees the way her love’s shoulders tense and she feels the mad urge to tell the King that his lady love never loved him back, that the product of her affections for the crown prince stands behind them, but of course she doesn’t, instead she merely hopes that the cloak of red and black that she knows Ned placed behind Lyanna’s statue is aptly hidden.

That night Ned will tell her that Robert has named him, Hand of The King and wishes to betroth Sansa to Joffrey. After showing him Lysa’s letter which accuses the Lannisters of poisoning Jon Arryn she will urge him to go to find out the truth and to get justice for his foster father for the kingdoms, she will urge him to do these things to agree to the betrothal for she knows that Sansa will flourish in the south and would make a fine queen, when she senses Ned hesitancy she can hazard a guess as to why, and she says to him that with his best friend as king no one would dare harm him nor their girls, though she is not so sure as she hopes she sounds.

At the feast the next day the news of Ned becoming Hand of the King and Sansa’s betrothal to Joffrey is formally announced too much raucous cheering amongst those in the hall and Catelyn can see Sansa’s happiness with the announcement and she sees how the crown prince pays much more attention to her daughter after the announcement. She also doesn’t fail to see how Jon’s expression changes from peaceful to dark back to neutral in a matter of moments, although Ned hasn’t realised it yet, she knows her nephew holds a crush on Sansa and that she holds a piece of his heart that not even Arya has, she also knows that Sansa feels the same way about Jon, but of course nothing could ever come of it much to Catelyn’s sorrow for she knows that as they have been raised as brother and sister it would be frowned upon and questioned where they to ever marry.

The joyous mood that surrounds Winterfell for the next few days is broken when Bran falls, her Bran who never falls, is found lying broken at the foot of the old tower whilst the men have gone out hunting, Maester Luwin says that he should live once the worst has past but, Ned’s pleas with Robert asking for a bit more time in Winterfell are rejected stating that there is business to do in the capital and so she knows Ned leaves her side and that of their son’s rather reluctantly as do the girls. As she watches the royal procession now containing her husband and her two daughters and their direwolves leave Winterfell Catelyn can only hope and pray that they remain safe, she doesn’t fail to miss Jon and Sansa’s goodbyes, for though Jon is staying in Winterfell with them, she knows that a part of his heart will go south with Sansa, she does not miss the little piece of cloth which has a white direwolf sewed on it that her daughter gives her nephew or the little piece of jewellery that he gives her nor the longer than proper hug that they share, and she can’t help but smile, knowing that at least somewhere her children are happy. Before she returns to her Bran’s room to sit with him till he wakes, for he has to wake, he must.


	3. The Snow In Winterfell

Jon watched the royal procession leave with a heavy heart, to him it felt like the King had come to Winterfell and had taken half of his person, for father, Arya and Sansa would no longer be walking the halls of home with Jon, Jon knew that perhaps he was being overly sentimental, but he couldn’t help it.  He felt that perhaps Sansa’s parting gift to him had probably heightened his sense of loss, after her betrothal to the prince had been announced that was all she would speak about, all she ever talked about was how great the prince was and how she was going to give him lots of children and how she was going to be queen. Frankly Jon thought the Prince was a right royal prick, his demeanour throughout the royal stay in Winterfell showed how little he actually thought of the North and its people, something that was further proven when he tried to taunt Robb into fighting him with live steel, and of course because Robb was heir to Winterfell and Jon was merely the bastard, Jon had accepted his challenge and had been looking forward to showing the little prick what was what, but of course Ser Rodrik had put a stop to that and so Jon would never truly know just how good the prince actually was.

Sansa’s parting gift to him had been a cloth which had had a white direwolf on a grey field sewed onto it, and she had said that it was meant to be Ghost and then she’d given him a hug that seemed to last longer than perhaps was necessary but it warmed Jon’s heart to think that even though she was so caught up in her betrothal she still had feelings for him, though what exactly they were he knew not, but it didn’t matter so long as he still held a place in her heart he would be happy. 

He was brought back to reality by the sound of his brother sighing, turning round he saw Robb had a rather glumy expression on his face, Jon raised an eyebrow in question and Robb said “Mother’s gone back to Bran’s room. I don’t know what she expects to happen, Maester Luwin has said that the worst has passed so its up to the gods now. But he will live I know he will. Its Rickon I’m worried about he doesn’t understand whats happening or why everyone’s going away.” All Jon could do was merely nod in understanding and promise to look after Rickon until Lady Catelyn came back to them.

The next few days passed by extremely quickly, Jon was kept busy trying to help Robb run Winterfell, normally the lady of the house would help oversee the accounts all the more nitty gritty details of running a castle such as Winterfell, but as Lady Catelyn was still sitting watch over Bran, it fell to Robb and then when it became apparent that Robb didn’t have a head for figures, Jon to ensure that there was enough money coming into Winterfell’s coffers. Jon also spent a great deal of time when he was not looking at the accounts with Rickon,  playing with him and generally trying to make sure that he didn’t become to rowdy or moody without his mother there. Though there were times when Jon wished that Lady Catelyn would just move from her vigil for though Jon bore the name Snow, she had never tried to make him feel unwelcome and had in fact treated him with the same love and respect that she treated all of her trueborn children with, and she had always been ready to give him advice, something that he felt he surely needed now more than ever.

Jon was also spending a great deal of time in the library much to Robb’s annoyance, the reason being that since they had found the direwolves south of the wall, Jon had been innately curious as to what exactly made Direwolves tick. Of course considering that the direwolves that the Stark children had were the first to be seen south of the wall in a round three hundred years did make it harder for the maester’s to specifically state what was what with regards to their habits and their growth, for Ghost, Greywind, Shaggydog and even Bran’s unnamed direwolf had grown to be the size of some of the larger hunting dogs in Winterfell. Jon was reading through a book called **The Mysteries of Wolves** by some unknown author when he found a letter stowed away into one of the pages of the book, curious he picked the letter up from the page, and saw that it only contained one word on the front of the envelope _Winter Rose,_ Jon turned the envelope over and saw much to his surprise the sigil of House Targaryen stamped into the back of it. He smelt something that seemed oddly like smoke wafting through the room but thought nothing of it, someone must have left a candle on for too long and it had probably burnt out.

So he turned his attention back to the letter currently in his hand and broke the seal and read what was inside:

_My lady,_

_I know what I ask of you is a heavy thing to pay, knowing that you are betrothed and that I have my own problems. But I cannot spent a day without thinking of you and knowing that you too think of me every day I can’t bear to be without you. Look for me when the moon is full in a week’s time, look for me in the godswood and come alone._

_Yours forever_

_The Silver Prince_

The letter made no sense to Jon, he knew neither of any Winter Rose nor of any silver prince but decided that he’d pocket the letter and show it to Maester Luwin later on. The smell of smoke was getting stronger now; worried Jon stood up and walked toward the door to see if something was amiss. Before he could get to the door however, he was knocked back by a sudden blast of wind, no not wind fire. Where had the fire come from? It was getting harder to breathe now, the smoke was filling his lungs and the orange flames were dancing in front of his eyes, thank gods Ghost was out hunting. He tried to walk toward the door but another blast of wind or was it fire, knocked back to the ground and then when he next looked up fire was engulfing the whole room and smoke was filling his lungs, he tried weakly to call for help but there was no one else in the tower except for him. He tried one last time to crawl toward the door, but the smoke and the heat of the fire was too much for him and he passed out half way between the table he had been sat at and the door.

\--------

_There was fire everywhere, but the boy soul mate was trapped, and the boy’s brother was yelling for help and for water, that would take too long, the boy soul mate would be dead by the time they put out the fire, he knew it and he could not allow it. So he ran through the flames unflinchingly and ran up one flight of stairs to where he knew the boy soul mate was, and charged through the open door, ignoring the flames and the burnt books that were strewn across the floor, he saw his soul mate lying unmoving on the floor. Whining he nudged his head against the soul mate’s shoulder when that got no response he tried nudging his head against the chest but nothing happened and so , he grabbed his soul mate by the scruff of the neck and dragged him out of the room, and down the stairs trying to make the journey as painless as possible though not likely succeeding, and then when he saw the light at the entrance to the tower he removed his teeth from his soul mate’s neck and barked for the soul mate’s brother to hear as well as the pack brother, when they heard they walked toward the entrance and helped drag – carry the soul mate out onto the cold hard ground away from the tower which the white wolf saw was now burning down to ruin._

_But it mattered not for the soul mate was alive, and the attempt on the pack brother had failed._

_\----------_

Jon awoke some days later, at first he was confused as to where he was, still expecting to be in the library tower, but when he looked toward the foot of the bed and saw Ghost curled up protectively he realised that he was in his room.

“You’re awake.” Jon tuned round to see Robb looking at him from a chair next to his bed, with what looked like a relieved smile on his face.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jon asked puzzled.

“Well when we saw the fire in the library tower it was already pretty big and we feared that it had already engulfed the room you were in.” Robb explained.

“Fire?! There was a fire in the library tower? What? How?” Jon asked worried.

At this Robb’s face twisted in anger and he said “An assassin was sent to kill Bran and mother, they were killed by Bran’s direwolf. They set the fire as a distraction most likely hoping to draw mother out of Bran’s room and do the deed whilst no one was there.”

Jon was shocked “Are Bran and mother ok? Did they get hurt? Do you know who sent the assassin?”

Robb was silent for a moment and then said “We have reason to believe that it was the work of the Lannisters. The dagger that the assassin had was of Valyrian steel, too good a dagger for a common vagabond to have. Mother believes that Bran must have seen something he wasn’t supposed to and now the Lannisters are trying to silence him.”

“How does mother know that it was the Lannisters and not someone else? That is a pretty big accusation to make Robb, they are the most powerful family in Westeros!” Jon said

Robb was silent once more before replying “What I am about tell you must remain between the two of us, only myself, father and Maester Luwin actually know this. “ Jon nodded his head of course he would not tell anyone anything if it concerned his family. Robb continued “When the royal family were still here, mother received a letter from Aunt Lysa, pinning the blame for Jon Arryn’s death on the Lannisters and warning mother to be wary of them.”

Jon was worried now “So you’re telling me that mother’s sister blames the Lannisters for murdering the last hand of the king and father and the girls are in King’s Landing surrounded by Lannisters! Robb we have to warn father, we can’t just let them take him from us or the girls!”

Robb nodded and said “Mother’s gone south to King’s Landing to warn father and to tell him what she suspects, she says she has a friend in the capital who could help us find out the truth.”

Jon nodded in response still not entirely convinced that what his step mother had decided was the wisest of ideas but still it was better than not doing anything. To take his mind of off that though he asked the other question that had been nagging away at him “How’s Bran is he doing any better?”

At that Robb’s face broke out into a huge grin and he replied “He’s doing much better in fact he’s awake!”

Jon couldn’t believe his ears and said “He’s awake are you sure?!”

Robb replied “Of course I’m sure, he woke up when I was sitting with him, he even came to visit you once or twice whilst you were still asleep!”

Jon hesitated to ask the next thing that was on his mind “How did he get here Robb if he can’t walk?”

Robb’s faced dropped momentarily before he said “Hodor carried him in. I’ve sent word to father and the girls in the capital about Bran waking up. There’s something else you need to know Jon.”

“Oh?” Jon didn’t like the sound of that.

“Father sent word whilst you were still abed. There was trouble on the King’s Road and Father had to kill Lady. Something about the Prince being attacked by a direwolf.” Robb said barely able to keep the scorn out of his voice.

Jon was silent before saying “How did Sansa take the news?”

Robb looked grim when he said “Not well she blames Arya for Lady’s death, but I also think she’s less enraptured by the prince as well which is good.”

\-------------

The days that followed this conversation Jon spent with Robb overseeing the running of Winterfell, sparring in the training yard with Theon and Robb when he could spare sometime and keeping an eye on Bran and Rickon making sure they didn’t get in to too much trouble. The letter he had found in the library was completely forgotten about at least it was until Tyrion Lannister stopped at Winterfell on his way back from the Wall.

Given their suspicions it was hardly surprising Jon thought that Tyrion was greeted less warmly that he had been when he had been riding with the King’s party, though he did not help himself when he said “ Any man of the Night’s Watch but not me, do I take your meaning, boy?”

Jon could see how aggravated that made Robb by the way he stood up and pointed his sword at Tyrion and said “I am the lord here while my mother and father are away, Lannister. I am not your boy.”

The imp further served to fan the flames of tension in the room by saying “If you are a lord, you might learn a lord’s courtesy.”

Tyrion then  noticed that Bran was in the hall being carried by Hodor, and said “So its true the boy lives. I could scarce believe it. You Starks are hard to kill.”

To which Robb replied “You Lannisters had best remember that.” He then gestured for Hodor to bring Bran next him, and said “You wished to speak to Bran well here he is, say what you have to say Lannister.”

Tyrion turned his mismatched eyes onto Bran then and seemed to be looking into the very depths of his soul and what he said next gave Jon chills “I am told you were quite the climber Bran, tell me how is it you happened to fall that day?”

“I never,” Bran insisted and Jon knew that it was something that still hurt Bran to think about for Jon knew that Bran never ever fell.

“The child does not remember anything of the fall, or the climb that came before it.” Maester Luwin said gently.

“Curious,” Said Tyrion.

“My brother is not here to answer your questions Lannister,” Robb said curtly. “Do your business and be on your way.”

“I have a gift for you,” the dwarf said to Bran. “Do you like to ride boy?”

Maester Luwin came forward “My lord the child has lost the use of his legs. He cannot sit a horse.”

“Nonsense,” said Lannister. “With the right horse and the right saddle, even a cripple can ride.”

Jon winced at Tyrion’s words he could see the hurt on Bran’s face when he said “I’m not a cripple!”

“Then I am not a dwarf,” Tyrion said with a twist of his mouth “My father shall rejoice to hear it.”

Jon heard Theon snort at that, but then heard Maester Luwin say “What do you have in mind my Lord?”

Tyrion looked at Luwin then at Bran and said “A smart horse, for the boy cannot use his legs to command the animal, so you must tailor the horse to the rider. I would start with an unbroken yearling with no old training to be unlearnt.”Taking a piece of paper from out of his sleeve he handed it to Maester Luwin and said “Give this to your saddler he should be able to make sense of it.”

Luwin handed the paper to Robb who looked at it and then said in a voice mixed with confusion and suspicion “Is this some sort of trap Lannister? Why are you being so kind to me brother?”

 To which Lannister gave another one of his slight grins and said “I have a fondness for cripples, bastards and broken things. Anyway I believe I may have overstayed my welcome.”

Robb seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying “Wait, you have done my brother a kindness Lord Tyrion, the hospitality of Winterfell is yours if you wish it.”

Tyrion looked at Robb and said “Spare me your false courtesies; I believe that we shall both sleep easier if I was not staying in your halls tonight. There was a brothel I saw a few miles from here I shall spend the evening there and head out in the morning.” And with that he nodded at Robb, Bran, Jon and Maester Luwin then walked out of the hall, leaving Jon and Robb to discuss what it was exactly that had just happened.

\------------

A few days later and they still couldn’t make sense of why Tyrion would be so kind to Bran if he was in on the plot to kill him. Of course for just now their concerns were put aside as they watched Bran riding around on his horse on his newly made saddle delight written all over his face. It made Jon smile to see his little brother so happy, and as they were riding through the godswood he thought nothing of it when Bran went riding a little faster than the rest of them.

It was only when he didn’t return that he began to worry, looking at Robb and Theon all three of them spurred their mounts on faster and what they saw scared them all in equal measure, Bran was being held by the scruff of his neck with a knife held against his throat by a wildling whilst the wildling’s three companions looked at what they could steal.

Robb said in his lord’s voice though Jon could hear the tremor in what he said “Release my brother this instant and I may let you live.”

The wildling who held the knife to Bran’s throat snorted and said “What are you going to do green boy, piss your breeches on me. No allow my companions and I to take what we want from you and your friends here, or your brother gets it.”

Jon could see Bran struggling against the man holding him captive, and could also see Ghost and Greywind coming out of the trees behind the wildlings, making his decision he spurred his horse forward just a little bit more and said “Let my brother go wildling.” When the man did not seem willing to Jon drew his sword from its sheath and slowly advanced closer toward the man’s companion and then in one swift motion had his sword inches from the woman’s throat and nodded to Robb who said “Let my brother go, or your companion gets it.”

To which the man replied “Let her go or the boy gets it in the neck.”

Jon could see the hesitancy in Robb’s eyes but could also see that Ghost and Greywind were coming ever closer to the wildlings, and it looked at least from the snarl on Ghost’s lips that the wildlings would most certainly be the ones getting it. But before anything else could happen an arrow whipped past Robb and buried itself deep into the man holding Bran’s neck, causing the man to let go of Bran and drop to the ground dead. Turning to see that it was Theon who shot the arrow, Jon could not form a response for the wildling woman he was holding tried to break free but his grip on her was too strong and so he quickly slashed his sword against her throat causing her to fall down dead, and then Ghost and Greywind pounced on the other wildling man who was trying to advance on Bran.

Eventually there was just one person left a woman who got down on her knees and said to Robb “Please my lord, spare me and I’ll serve you however, you see fit, please my lord.”

Jon saw Robb look at the woman for a long moment before he eventually said “Very well then Jon make sure that she doesn’t try and escape, Bran come with me. Theon keep an eye on her as well.” And with that they rode back to the castle.

\---------

Jon found himself reading yet another letter he had found buried in his room from this silver prince when Theon came to his room and said “Robb wants to see you. He’s in the Lord’s solar.”

Wondering if he had had anymore news about King’s Landing since they had learnt of the Kingslayer’s attack on their father in retaliation for Lady Catelyn taking Tyrion to the Vale, Jon put the letter in his pocket and followed Theon to his father’s solar.

Upon entering Jon found himself looking at a rather grim looking Robb, and scared looking Bran, wondering what could be the cause of such a scene Jon asked “You called and I have come, what’s the matter Robb.”

Robb wordlessly handed Jon a letter, which upon reading it he recognised as coming from the capital and in Sansa’s hand. He could not believe what it said though, their father was being accused of plotting to overthrow the King, Joffrey Baratheon and had been therefore arrested for treason, and Robb was being summoned to King’s Landing to pledge fealty to Joffrey. Of Arya there was no mention.

Jon looked at Robb and said “You don’t believe this do you?” To which Robb shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

Robb said in an iron voice “Joffrey has arrested my father and has killed men from Winterfell, he has threatened the safety of our sisters, and he wants his arsed kissed. What do you think I’m going to do?”

To which Jon said “Fight.” Robb nodded and said “I’ll go to King’s Landing, but I won’t go alone. Maester Luwin send the letters out and call the banners it’s time to see how loyal my father’s bannermen truly are.”

 

 


	4. Storm's A Coming

King’s Landing had become like a cage for Sansa since her father’s arrest. She was not allowed to walk anywhere without an escort or as she preferred to see it a guard, it was as if Joffrey and Cersei were afraid that she would try and escape if there was no one there to watch her constantly. She wondered where they thought she would try and escape to, she knew Arya was missing and had been missing since their father’s arrest but Sansa was not Arya, she did not know how to fight to survive, she knew how to be a lady and say all the courtesies she had been taught like the little bird the Hound said she was.  
When she had first come to King’s Landing, she had been enthralled by the city it was so big and so colourful it was a far cry from Winterfell, and she had been so excited, if not for her marriage to Joffrey then because she knew that she would still be queen. However, her love for the city had quickly disappeared when the Kingslayer had attacked her father and injured him some weeks back, that attack had led to the death of several men from Winterfell whom Sansa had known her whole life and that was something she still did not understand why had the Lannisters suddenly turned on her father, when mother had taken Lord Tyrion prisoner for a crime that Lord Baelish had assured father he had committed? King’s Landing had only been made worse by her still present betrothal to Joffrey, when father had said that they were to be leaving King’s Landing the day before his arrest, Sansa had been deeply relieved her golden prince had turned out to be not so golden after all. He still tried to pretend to be sweet and charming towards her but Sansa knew that it was all an act and she hated him for it. She knew that it was because of him that father had had to execute Lady, and could not even understand why he and the Queen had insisted on it, when Lady had not done anything to him. 

She knew that perhaps she was being unfair to the prince but she could not but help compare him to the only other boy who had ever held her heart, Jon. Whenever she made these comparisons she found that the prince came up sorely lacking. She knew Jon would never have made her do anything that made her feel uncomfortable or sad, she knew Jon would never have demanded Lady’s death, she knew Jon would actually try and comfort her rather than leer at her and call her stupid. It was only truly after the incident on the Kingsroad that Sansa had truly begun to appreciate what she shared with Jon. True he may have be a bastard and her half brother besides, but he was her bastard and he was good and kind and handsome, everything the songs said knights were supposed to be. Sansa also felt that the fluttering she felt in her chest every time she thought of him was not just sisterly affection it was something more, it had to be something more. 

Of course the question of whether or not she would ever get to see Jon or Robb or her mother or Bran and Rickon or Arya ever again loomed large in her mind, because with father’s arrest and the news that Robb was marching south Sansa knew that she was effectively a prisoner in the Red Keep. Every time an announcement was made during the King’s audience in the throne room she prayed fervently that none of her family were mentioned in it for the announcements largely stated the defeats that were befalling her mother’s family in the Riverlands as well as the mounting death toll. She deeply hoped that if it did come to war that Robb was successful, because she did not know how long she could survive in the capital.

Sansa had not even been allowed to see her father, since the day of his arrest for a crime that Sansa knew deep down in her heart he had not committed. Every request she made before the Queen or Joffrey was shot down and so four weeks had passed since her father’s arrest and she had not seen him once. She had not even been allowed to see Jeyne Poole, who it seemed had simply disappeared from the face of the earth, the last Sansa had heard she had been taken in by Lord Baelish, but to where Sansa knew not wherever she was Sansa hoped that Jeyne was well and not being hurt too badly.

It still grated Sansa that the Queen had all but forced her to write that letter to Robb and to her mother, denouncing father as a traitor to the crown and asking Robb to come to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Joffrey. As she had been writing the letter, Sansa had been screaming bloody murder inside herself willing her hands to write the truth that her mind was thinking, but her hands betrayed her and neatly wrote the words that the Queen told her to put to parchment. She knew that reading the letter would deeply anger Robb and Jon and she could only hope that they knew she meant not a word of what she had written that she knew that their father was not a traitor to the crown that she just wanted to go home. She hoped for all of this and more, and each day she went to the Godswood to pray begging her father’s gods to answer her prayers for freedom from Joffrey, from Cersei, for her and her father to be able to go home.  
\----------------  
Moat Cailin was an ancient fortress that Jon had studied with Robb and Theon during his lessons with Maester Luwin as a boy. He knew the supposed history behind the fort, how it had been raised by the First Men some 10,000 years ago. It had been the key to holding the north for as long as it stood and any army marching from the South wishing to bypass the Moat would have to win the allegiance of House Reed- something that had never happened due to the Reeds undying loyalty to House Stark- of course armies had broken themselves against the Moat coming from the south for neigh on thousands of years, it was definitely an imposing fortress.

The northern army containing 12,000 men from Houses Stark, Karstark, Bolton, Glover, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Umber, Dustin, Ryswell and soon Manderly made camp within the site of the fortress. The direwolf banner of House Stark flew from the three remaining towers, Karstark claimed the Drunkard’s Tower, and Umber the Children’s Tower and Robb claimed the Gatehouse Tower as his own. After helping the men unpack and unload the tents and some supplies for the night, Jon found himself sitting in with Robb for their first proper war council meeting.

Jon spent most of the council meeting merely listening to what Lords Umber, Karstark and Bolton had to say. Lord Umber was all for engaging Tywin Lannister in full on battle, stating that the old lion would not expect the full force of the north to be upon him and that if they attacked him first then they’d catch him with his breeches down around his ankles. However, Lords Bolton and Karstark argued against such a plan suggesting that Tywin Lannister was no fool and would expect Robb to be leading the assault on his army, and would try and use that to his advantage and that if they did attack Tywin’s army they would be at risk of being attacked in the rear by Jamie Lannister’s host. The discussion went on for some time, with Lord Dustin suggesting that instead of engaging one single Lannister host why not split the Northern host into two and send one force to attack the Kingslayer and the other to attack Lord Tywin, for as Lord Dustin put it that was something neither Lannister would not expect and would more than likely throw their plans off. Though in order for them to be able to maintain the element of surprise they would need Lord Frey’s help, for Old Walder Frey’s bridge was the only proper crossing that the Northern army could hope to take if they wished to avoid detection. The discussion raged for what seemed like hours with various Lords either throwing their support in behind Lord Umber’s or Lord Dustin’s suggestions. Throughout it all though Jon noted that Robb kept his expression blank and gave no hint as to what he actually thought of the ideas being bandied about the room.

That was until he finally spoke “Enough my lords. We have heard two main strategies from both Lords Umber and Dustin that have merit. If we are to keep the element of surprise and use it to our advantage then we shall need to have Lord Frey on our side, we shall need his bridge and his men. Jon what do you think we should do?”

Jon was completely caught out by Robb’s question he hadn’t even thought about voicing his own opinion though he agreed with Lord Dustin, and he could tell from looking around the room that some of the Lords obviously gave two figs as to what he thought about their battle plans. Clearing his throat, Jon said in as confident a voice as he could manage “ I believe that whilst Lord Umber’s suggestion has merit and whilst it would be nice to catch Old Lord Tywin with his breeches down for us to make a laughingstock of him, Lord Dustin’s suggestion does have more merit. Send someone experienced in to lead the attack on Tywin Lannister’s host someone who knows how the man’s mind works, and I believe my Lord that you should lead the attack on the Kingslayer’s host. The man is known to be rash and impulsive lead the attack and you’ll draw him out and play on his arrogance. Lead the attack my lord and Riverrun is as good as ours.” Jon finished speaking and then the hall was silent for a moment before it broke out into rapturous applause.

Lords Umber, Karstark and Dustin could be heard saying “Hear Hear.” Jon frankly was surprised that what he had said had gotten the Northern Lords so pumped up, he had thought that he was just giving a simple suggestion only to realise that he was being tested as well. Robb’s bannermen had tested him at Winterfell and when Greywind had bitten two of the Greatjon’s fingers off he had passed that test, now it seemed that Robb had been in on the testing and judging by the look of pride on his face Jon had passed with flying colours. He felt a rush of pride and felt his cheeks heat it felt to be recognised for something other than being Eddard Stark’s bastard for once.

The applause had just begun to die down when, Jon saw Ghost and Greywind perk up and move toward the entrance to the room where the council was being held, turning round to see who it was Jon nearly leapt out of his seat. It was Lady Catelyn standing there in the room looking at him and Robb with an unreadable expression on her face whilst Ghost and Greywind padded around her and sniffed her hands.  
Jon looked at Robb and could tell that Robb too wanted to leap out of his chair and throw himself into their mother’s arms, but would not do such a thing in front of his bannermen and so he merely stood up and said “Mother, I did not expect to see you here.”

To which Lady Catelyn replied “I did not expect to be here. But here I am.”

Lord Bolton, Jon noticed was watching Lady Catelyn intently before he asked “My lady as nice as it is to see you, you would not per chance have the Imp still with you? For if you do we could use him as a hostage.”  
Lady Catelyn grimaced and said “Unfortunately not my Lords. I did have him as a prisoner but the gods and my fool of a sister saw fit to release him.” At this many of the lords began to mutter amongst themselves but a look from Robb and they were quieted. 

Lady Catelyn continued “I hope you do not mind my Lords, but I brought with me a guest from the Vale, my uncle Ser Brynden Tully.” Jon’s eyes nearly expanded looking at the man standing in front of him with his dark red Tully hair, he looked like a much older version of Robb, the man was a legend, Jon had grown up hearing about the Blackfish’s exploits in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and during Robert’s Rebellion.  
Robb nodded in acknowledgement to his great uncle before saying “My Lords it has been a long and tiring day. I am sure you all wish to retire for the night, I give you leave to do so. Mother, Jon if you could stay behind I would speak with you. You too uncle.” As the Lords walked out of the hall, Jon saw Theon hovering by the door way and Jon knew he wanted to stay and for a moment Jon wondered why Robb hadn’t asked him to, but then Jon saw Robb nod to Theon and the Ironborn walked out of the room closing the doors behind him.

All was silent for a moment before Robb spoke “It is nice to see you again mother. You know what has happened to father and the girls yes?” 

Lady Catelyn nodded and said “Yes, Lord Manderly told me when I arrived at White Harbour. I sent Ser Rodrik off to hold Winterfell until we return upon hearing the news.”

Robb nodded then said “There was a letter for you from the capital, from Sansa, it contains the same words as the letter she sent to me, and so I did not bring yours.” Robb handed their mother the piece of paper that condemned their father as a traitor to the crown and demanded that Robb ride to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Joffrey.

Jon watched his adopted mother’s face as she read the words that were written by Sansa but said by the Queen and once she had finished reading she said “These words may have been written in Sansa’s hands but come from Cersei Lannister. With there being no mention of Arya we can only assume that they do not have her and pray that she stays safe and manages to make her way back to us before it is too late. All this about the Lannisters being kind to her is rubbish; I know a threat when I see one. But enough about the letter tell me Robb what do you plan on doing now that you have command of the army, could you not have given command to someone else?”

Jon saw the way his brother’s jaw clenched at their mother’s words and was about to speak out in defence of him when Robb replied “I am the Lord of Winterfell in father’s absence mother. I will not call my banners and let someone else lead them; I will not have it said that I let others do my work, father led a host to war when he was but a few years older than men. I have Jon with me as well and I shall lead.” 

Lady Catelyn sighed then and said “Very well then, but tell me what do you plan on doing? How do you plan on fighting the Lannisters?”

Robb looked at Jon then and Jon looked at Robb and together they said “We need Walder Frey’s bridge if we hope to cross with our whole might. Once that has been achieved the host shall be split into two with one army marching onto the Green Fork to take on Tywin Lannister’s host the other will take on the Kingslayer’s.”

Catelyn nodded in approval as did the Blackfish, but then the Blackfish asked “I would not rely on Old Walder to be so willing to give you his bridge my lord. During Robert’s Rebellion the man waited until well into the battle of the Trident before he joined his strength to that of your father’s. He is a cautious man by nature and age will have made him more so, he will want you to pay a toll and pay it you shall have to if you wish to cross.”

Robb nodded in understanding and said “I understand that uncle and I am willing to pay, but we need that bridge if we are to cross harmlessly. As to who shall lead the armies, I shall lead the one that fights the Kingslayer and I was thinking of perhaps giving The Greatjon control over the host to fight Tywin Lannister.”

At this Lady Catelyn spoke up “I would council against sending Lord Umber to lead the army against Tywin Lannister Robb. Lord Umber is a proud and aggressive man and may not be adept at sneaking up on Lord Tywin unawares. You want someone who can do so without giving away your own position.”

Jon knew who she was talking about then and looked at Robb and said “Lord Bolton Robb, Lord Bolton is that person he’ll be able to sneak up on Lord Tywin and buy us time.”  
Robb nodded in agreement and said “Very well then, that is settled we ride for the Twins at first light tomorrow.”  
\------------------  
After her meeting with Robb was done Catelyn spent a bit of time talking to her son and her adopted son finding out how they were doing and how things had been at Winterfell when they had left. Speaking to both Robb and Jon, Catelyn felt that both her boys had gone from being boys to men in a matter of seconds, but she could see that in the way the spoke and held themselves they were both Ned’s sons no matter the truth of Jon’s parentage. Though she did admit that there was something in the way Jon held himself that vaguely reminded her of Prince Rhaegar at Harrenhal all those years ago, and when Jon showed her a letter that he had found in Winterfell before he had left and asked her if she knew what it meant she lied and said she didn’t but inside she felt her nerves begin to grow, Jon was getting closer to finding out the truth about who he was and she knew that for him to truly understand Ned would need to be here to explain why they had done what they had done all those years ago.

It was with these thoughts in her head that she accidentally walked into Lord Dustin.

“Pardon me my lord, I was lost in thought and did not see you.” She said apologetically.

Lord Dustin merely smiled at her and said “Not to worry my lady.” He was about to continue walking on when Catelyn saw him stop and turn round and say to her “My lady I have one question to ask of you.”

Catelyn wondered what that question could be, and for a moment remembered that Lord Dustin had been at the Tower of Joy with Ned, and more than likely knew the truth of Jon’s parentage.

It seemed her thoughts were proven right when he said “He’s getting closer to finding out the truth isn’t he?”

Catelyn replied “I know neither what you mean nor who you speak of my lord?”

Lord Dustin gave her a sad smile and said “Of course you don’t my lady. The boy, Ned’s bastard, who’s not really his bastard he’s getting closer to knowing the truth about his parentage isn’t he?”

This time Catelyn could only nod.

Lord Dustin spoke again “I was there when Ned found him my lady. I was there when Ned came out of the tower with his sister’s babe and not his sister; I know he was haunted by what he found out. I also know that Jon Snow thinks of the both of you as his parents, though others whisper otherwise. I also know that he could be our hope of winning this war without too much bloodshed. If we were to fight to put him on the throne then the Tyrells would rally to our cause as would Dorne. Think on what I have said my lady.” And with that Lord Dustin walked away into the night leaving Catelyn chilled to her bones.

She knew that if she told Jon the truth he may believe her or he might not, but if he did believe her they could bring the Tyrells into the fold, but of course old Walder Frey would want his daughter to marry the King if Jon were to go that route. But she knew also that Ned had promised his sister that Jon would be protected from those who wished to use him simply for his last name. She would need to speak to her uncle and of course to Jon before anyone else could talk to him.  
\-------------  
His cell was cold and painful, a fitting punishment he thought, a fitting punishment for a traitor. Not a traitor to King Joffrey no, for Joffrey was no true king of that Ned was sure of, but a traitor to his friend’s memory and to his family. How could he have been so stupid as to put his own honour or that of Cersei Lannister’s before the safety of his children? How could he have told her what he meant to do? Now he had been reward with a place in the Black Cells of the Red Keep where they had kept Brandon years ago when he had come charging in to the Red Keep demanding Prince Rhaegar’s head.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of feet pattering along the cobbled floors. Straining his neck up to see who it was who was coming to visit him he was surprised to see Varys standing in front of his cell with a beard and skin of water.

“Oh you look surprised to see me, my lord Hand.” Varys tittered.

Ned did not reply and waited for Varys to continue.

“I do wonder what fit of madness spurred you on to declare in front of half the court that Joffrey was not Robert’s son.” The eunuch said.

“The madness of mercy.” Ned rasped his voice hoarse with disuse.

“Ah mercy, such a fickle thing. And look where that mercy has gotten you Lord Stark, a cell in deepest recesses of the Red Keep’s dungeons. You know I do think this is the same cell that Mad King Aerys kept your brother Brandon in.” Varys tittered.

“Why are you here Varys? Have you come to taunt me? Like Baelish did?” Ned questioned

Varys sighed and said “No my Lord, I have not come to taunt you as for Baelish that was one snake you should never have trusted. The man plays for his own gain, that you came to him when the attempt on your boy Bran happened merely suited him. No Baelish is one snake you should not have trusted.”

Ned had to give a little raspy laugh at that, “And I can trust you Lord Varys? You who stood by when Joffrey had me imprisoned when Cersei had those Lannister men kill my men, who pushed my son out of a window to hide her sins from the world. Pray tell me Lord Varys why should I trust you?”

Varys laughed at that before replying “Why my Lord that’s just the thing you can’t trust me in fact you should never trust a spider or for that matter anyone in this city. You saw how Ser Barristan stood by whilst you were arrested, the man saw the words Robert Baratheon wrote down naming you protector of the realm and yet when his Queen ordered your arrest he did nothing. No I have come to offer you hope. The Queen shall be visiting you in a few days time to give you the chance for freedom if you denounce Stannis and Renly as usurpers and that Joffrey is the rightful king, if you promise to do that and to take her secret to the grave with you, she shall allow you to take the black. Freeing her to deal with Stannis and Renly as your son would not be marching south.”

Ned was shocked “Robb’s marching south? He is but a boy!”

“Ah but a boy with an army. Think on it my lord, announce Joffrey as the true king and you and your daughter the Lady Sansa can go home back to Winterfell, and you can take the Lady Arya your other daughter home with you as well.”

“You would have me play a part in a mummer’s farce and declare for a boy who I know not to be the rightful king, and allow his mother to continue her little masquerade. And insult my friend’s memory?!” Ned asked 

Varys sighed “I would have you do what is right to allow innocent people to live Lord Stark. Surely that is not hard to for you do.”

Ned sighed and said “Very well then I shall accept Cersei Lannister’s proposal, for the safety of my girls.”

Varys said nothing for a moment and said “Besides it need not be forever your time at the wall. For we both know that Joffrey is not the rightful king, nor are Stannis or Renly. In fact we both know that the rightful king of Westeros is in fact marching south with your boy as we speak.”

Ned felt a cold tendril of fear capture him, “How? How?”

Varys laughed “How do I know the truth of Jon Snow’s parentage?” Oh my Lord Stark, surely you did not think I earned the name the Spider for simply having ears in the capital no. I have ears everywhere my lord but of course this one did not take long to figure out. Did you truly think that everyone would not question the story that three of the finest knights of Aerys Kingsguard including the Lord Commander were absent throughout the whole rebellion simply to guard your sister in Dorne? No, those who believe that story believe it because they wish to and because it suits their own ends. No I know that they were guarding Rhaegar’s child with your sister and later when Jon Snow was born a boy and news of the sack reached them, they were guarding their rightful king. Jon Snow is not a snow is he Lord Eddard? Rightfully he should be Jon Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Ned felt dread pool up in the pit of his stomach, his promise to Lya made all those years ago echoing in his head. “What do you want Varys?”

Varys said in a much deeper voice than before “Only what is right my Lord. Only what is right.”


	5. Troops Of Doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh I don't know if I made this clear at the beginning or not but the Sansa is slightly older than canon Sansa- she's born in 285 A.L. not 286 :)

**Catelyn**

_The Northern host made its way down the bogs of the Neck at a quick pace, they seemed to be constantly marching and Catelyn suspected that it had more to do with nerves on Robb’s part than anything else. Each day that they  marched Robb would ask one of his lord bannermen to ride beside him and they would converse on a variety of subjects, it was something that Robb had learned from Ned, for as her husband always used to say to Robb and Jon ‘ if your men do not know you how can you expect them to die for you?’ Jon himself it seemed had also taken Ned’s words to heart and spent a great deal of time conversing with those lords that Robb had either spoken to already or had yet to speak to, today whilst Robb was speaking with Robett Glover, Jon was speaking with Rickard Karstark  and saying something that was obviously making the older man laugh._

_Ser Brynden’s riders brought back news that did little to ease the nerves and worry that were Catelyn’s constant companions these days.  Lord Tywin’s host was still many days to the south..... but Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing had assembled a force of near four thousand men at his castles on the Green Fork._

_“Late again.” Catelyn had murmured when she heard. It was the Trident all over, damn the man. Her brother Edmure had called the banners: by rights, Lord Frey should have gone to join the Tully host at Riverrun, yet here he sat._

_“Four thousand men,” Robb repeated, more perplexed than angry. “Lord Frey cannot hope to fight the Lannisters by himself. Surely he means to join his power to ours.”_

_“Does he?” Robett Glover asked. She had ridden forward to join Robb and Robett Glover, his companion of the day. The vanguard spread out behind them, a slow moving forest of lances and banners and spears. “I wonder. Expect nothing of Walder Frey, and you will never be surprised.”_

_“He’s your father’s bannermen.”_

_“Some men take their oaths more seriously than others Robb. And Lord Walder was always friendlier with Casterly Rock than my father would have liked. One of his son’s is wed to Tywin Lannister’s sister. That means little of itself to be sure. Lord Walder has sired a great many children over the years and they must needs marry someone. Still...”_

_“Do you think he means to betray us to the Lannisters my lady?” Robett Glover asked gravely._

_Catelyn sighed “Truth be told, I doubt even Lord Frey knows what Lord Frey intends to do. He was always cautious and with his age that is likely to have grown though he has a young man’s ambition and a fox’s cunning.”_

_Before Robb could reply, Theon Greyjoy rode up looking slightly the worse for wear “The Blackfish says to tell you that he crossed swords with Lannisters. There a dozen scouts who won’t be reporting back to Lord Tywin anytime soon or ever.” He grinned “Ser Addam Marbrand commands the outriders and he’s retreating south burning as he goes. He knows more or less where we are but won’t advance any further the Blackfish promises.”_

_“Unless Lord Frey tells him.” Catelyn warned._

_“Aye that is true my lady, “ Greyjoy replied but then said “Whilst I was riding to tell you the news there was some activity within the Twins it appears Lord Frey wishes to know what we want from him.”_

_Sure enough after Theon spoke those words riders bearing the twin towers of House Frey could be seen approaching them.  Ser Stevron Frey the heir to the Twins for as long as Catelyn had lived rode forth with what she assumed to be his siblings or nephews or even children, it was hard to tell with so many Freys running around._

_“My lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to whom leads this mighty host.” Ser Stevron said._

_Robb rode forward “I do.”_

_Ser Stevron looked at Robb with a slightly bemused look on his face when he asked “And if you would be so kind to state your purpose with him in his hall, he would be most grateful.”_

_His words crashed around the lord bannermen each giving reasons as to why Robb should not venture into the Twins and why Lord Frey could not be trusted. Catelyn could tell that their words were not impressing Ser Stevron and for a moment she feared that he would simply retreat back to the Twins and then all would be lost.  It was with this in mind that she said loudly “I will go.”_

_“You my lady?” said the Greatjon his brow furrowed._

_“Are you sure mother?” Robb asked_

_“Never more,” Catelyn lied glibly “Lord Walder is my father’s bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer me any harm.”_

_Ser Stevron was quick to seize on the opening Catelyn had given him “I am certain my Lord father would be pleased to speak to the Lady Catelyn. To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother Ser Perwyn will remain here until she is safely returned to you.”_

_“He shall be our honoured guest.” Robb said, Ser Perwyn, the youngest of the four Freys in the party, dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a brother. “I require my lady mother’s return by evenfall, Ser Stevron,” Robb went on “It is not my intent to linger long.”_

_Ser Stevron gave a polite nod, “As you say my lord.” Catelyn spurred her horse forward and did not look back. She knew she would need to play it carefully here,  her father and uncle had often said that Lord Walder was so old that he remembered insults and slights as if they had happened just the day before, his loyalty was only to himself and he fathered children with no care for the trouble they caused. Yes she thought I will have to be careful not to play on his pride here._

_As she entered the Great Hall of the Twins, she found herself trying to hold back her anger. Whilst her brother and most of her father’s bannermen were fighting the Lannisters, Lord Frey and his brood were gorging themselves on food, wine and women as if  winter was just around the corner. They all stopped however, when Ser Stevron announced her, Lord Frey looked up from his plate of food and cast his beady eyes on her and she could see the disdain written clearly on his face even before he began to speak._

_“So the boy sends his mother eh, is he not man enough to come and talk to me himself?” Catelyn had to hold her tongue for she knew what she had been about to say would have deeply angered the old Lord of the Crossing._

_Instead all she said was “I have come as a representative from my son and his bannermen my lord. You, yourself are my father’s bannerman and I would like to speak to you.” She heard the shuffling of benches and knew that Lord Walder’s brood were now paying much more rapt attention, she looked at Lord Walder questioningly for a moment before he shouted for everyone else to get lost._

_Once the last of his brood had gone Lord Walder fixed his beady eyes on her once more and said “I know what you wish to ask of me, my lady. I am not as old and senile as everyone seems to think. But tell me Lady Stark, why should I allow your boy and his men to cross? Your husband has been named traitor and your boy and his men are no more than rebels. What is in it for me if I allow them to cross?”_

_Catelyn bristled and said “You swore a vow to my father, you are his bannerman you have called your men and here they are, why then do you not march for Riverrun my Lord? Why wait here? For surely when Tywin Lannister is done with the rest of the Riverlands he will come for you and question why you did not march on Edmure?”_

_Lord Frey looked at her for a moment before speaking “I also swore a vow to the Iron Throne. Tell me my lady, when your husband rebelled against mad King Aerys, he marched his men down the neck and passed my hall and hearth, for Lord Hoster demanded it and I was in no position then to refuse nor get any benefit from doing so. For Aerys was mad on that all agree, but Joffrey? The boy is but a stripling compared to Aerys, true the stripling looks more Lannister than Baratheon but unless there is proof for what your husband and Lord Stannis have been saying then he is the rightful king of the throne.”_

_Oh if you only knew, Catelyn thought, the rightful king to the throne sits amongst my son’s ranks. But of course she could not tell him that for he would wish for one of his daughters to be betrothed to Jon and Catelyn knew that Jon would never hold to it for only one girl held his heart more than his honour did, and she was a captive in King’s Landing._

_Lord Frey continued “Of course if I were to gain certain benefits from allowing your boy and his men to cross then I suppose I could be amenable to allowing them to cross as well as my men.”_

_And so negotiations went back and forth between Lady Catelyn and Lord Walder for a good few hours, and when they were finally done and she returned to Robb and his men and Ser Perwyn rode off back to the Twins with his brothers the sun was beginning to set ._

_“Well?” Robb asked “What did he want?”_

_Catelyn took a deep breath and said “He will give us his men and his bridge if you take his son Olyvar to squire.”_

_Robb was about to speak, so Catelyn ploughed on “When we get Arya back she is to marry his boy Elmar. I will need men to escort two of his boys both of whom called Walder back to Winterfell for I have agreed to foster them. And when the fighting is done you shall marry one of his daughters. Do you accept?”_

_Robb was silent for a moment before saying “Can I refuse?”_

_“Not if you wish to cross.”_

_“Then I accept.”_

_Catelyn felt her heart swell with pride for her son, for boys may play at being knights and warriors, but it took a Lord to negotiate a marriage contract._

* * *

**Jon**

After they had been allowed to cross the northern host split in two, with Roose Bolton taking control of the infantry and had been instructed to engage Tywin Lannister’s host in combat in order to by Robb who had taken control of the cavalry, time to march on Riverrun and take the Kingslayer unawares. They were bolstered by 2000 men from the Crossing and from a further 1000 men from Seagard. They rode hard and were racing to making to the Whispering Wood by nightfall, for a few moments on the ride Jon was worried that perhaps the horses and the men would both be too tired to engage in serious combat due to their exertions in the day.

Robb, however was insistent that the Blackfish continue to send scouts out before them to ensure that none of the scouts that the Kingslayer may have sent out could spot their advance and warn the Kingslayer before they had had a chance to converge on him and surround his men. They had reached the Whispering Wood just as the sun was setting, and as Jon sat on his black stallion next to Robb who was sat on his grey one, he could feel a sense of nerves and anticipation both emanating from himself and from Robb. They were waiting for Lady Mormont to blow her horn to signal that the trap had been set and the anticipation was beginning to get to Jon, he knew that he would more than likely be engaged in the main body of fighting as he was part of Robb’s protective guard, he hadn’t really volunteered for the role it was only that when their mother had suggested that if she were to have guards then Robb to should have guards whilst all the other lord’s sons and daughter had clamoured for the role of protecting the heir to Winterfell, Jon had merely stood beside Robb and both had known that he would die to protect his brother.

Jon felt Robb move beside him and out of the corner of his eye saw his brother put his helm on so that only his eyes could be visible through his helm, Jon watched with mixed feelings of pride and nerves as he saw his brother ride down the line saying things to the men that would undoubtedly give them courage for the upcoming battle. Something Jon knew that Robb had learned from their father. When Robb rode back and moved his horse beside Jon’s, Jon put on his own wolf’s head helm and then together they waited for the war to begin.

When they heard Lady Maege’s horn sound and Ghost and Greywind’s answering howls, Jon felt a shiver run through him, and heard Robb say softly “This is it brother, tonight we become men.” Then heard him say much more loudly “FOR WINTERFELL!”

Jon shouted “Winterfell” with the rest of the men before following Robb’s charge and soon all else was forgotten as Jon gave himself to the blood rush and the adrenaline of the fight. His sword was put to use when a man dressed in the Lannister crimson came charging at him from out of the dark, Jon slashed at the man’s throat and struck true and watched as the man fell to the ground bleeding to his death. Jon rode on slashing and hacking at any man who wore Lannister red till his sword was stained red, fitting he supposed. Next to him Robb was also cutting and slashing away, Jon had made sure to ride close to Robb to make sure no one else tried to sneak an attack in, and Ghost and Greywind were close by as well ripping the throats out of men and horses alike.

The next man Jon attacked was a big brute of a man, nearing seven feet tall who looked as big as an ox, he swung wildly at Jon, and he just about managed to raise his shield up in time to defect the bigger man’s blow. It took all of his strength to throw the man’s sword of off his shield, as the man continued to swing and Jon found that he could not do much more than block. But then the bigger man began to tire and Jon after throwing the man’s sword of his shield once more began slashing at the man’s exposed right side, the man weighed down by his armour was slow to respond and by the time he managed to raise his shield up to block one of Jon’s swings, he was already bleeding viciously. Though he did not give up his own assault either instead it continued with a renewed sense of purpose, Jon felt the sword make dents in his breastplate and shoulder plate and could even feel the blood begin to trickle out of the wounds that the man’s sword had made. Still the bigger man had tired himself out through his earlier exertions and Jon managed with one big thrust to knock the man’s sword out of his hand and pierce the man’s throat. Jon watched rooted to the spot as the behemoth of a man fell to his knees, blood spouting from his throat as he bled to death.

He was brought back to the sounds of the battle when he heard something that made his heart nearly stop in his chest. The Kingslayer was advancing closer and closer to his brother all the while cutting down Robb’s protectors and shouting the name “Stark!” over and over again. Jon turned his horse to see where Robb was, and found to his relief that his brother was still engaged in a battle with another Lannister soldier and that Dacey Mormont and Robin Flint were still near him. He looked back to where the Kingslayer was and watched horrified as he brought down first Eddard Karstark with a jab to the throat and then Daryn Hornwood with a thrust through the stomach, he was advancing toward Torrhen Karstark when Jon snapped out of his stupor and shouted as loud as he could “GHOST!” He watched relieved when Ghost managed to push Torrhen down to the ground and away from the Kingslayer.

This of course drew the kingslayer’s attention and he looked up through his lion’s helm toward Jon and spurred his horse forward, Jon did the same and when they were close enough to exchange blows Jon could have sworn he heard the man say “Bastard.”  Jon did not have time to respond for before he knew it the man, the finest sword in Westeros was swinging his sword at Jon like his life depended on it and Jon was raising his sword in the nick of time to defend himself. Jon found himself engaged in a dance of steel with the Kingslayer and found that for every blow he managed to get onto the man, for every cut that drew blood from the Kingslayer, the man managed to get two on Jon. He could feel his body beginning to tire and knew that either he would die soon or the Kingslayer would more than likely take him prisoner. Jon was jolted awake though when he felt the man’s sword pierce his horse’s throat and Jon fell off his black stallion and just about managed to roll away from it before it fell down to the ground dead. Jon was now fighting the Kingslayer on the ground for the man dismounted from his own horse too.

They continued their dance of steel both either getting hits on the other that drew blood or clashing sword on sword. Jon kept fighting past the point of exhaustion as did the Kingslayer, however, Jon could also tell that Ghost was going to pounce on the man unless Jon finished him soon, and so he feinted to his left hoping to draw the kingslayer’s shield arm up, and when the man did raise his shield arm Jon swung with all his might and brought his sword down on the man’s left arm splicing hand from arm, and as blood began to pour out from the stump that was formerly the Kingslayer’s left hand Ghost pounced on the man knocking him to the ground.

Later once the Kingslayer had been brought in chains before Robb and Lady Catelyn and had been thrown into a makeshift cell in their camp, Jon found himself sitting on yet another horse in the dead of the night waiting for another horn to be blown. They were to destroy the remaining Lannister soldiers that were camped near Riverrun. Jon was part of the van being commanded by the Blackfish, and when he heard Ghost’s howl, Jon spurred his horse on shouting Winterfell as he moved, and soon he was swept up in yet another battle.

This one though went much quicker than the day’s battle and was over in what felt like a matter of minutes. Jon swung his sword and cleaved a bloody path through the Lannister encampment on the West Bank near Riverrun, whilst the men set fire to Lannister tents. Jon continued cleaving a bloody path through the Lannister soldiers leaving room for the others to throw their torches onto the tents, and when Robb and his men came forth and began attacking the east bank the gates of Riverrun opened and Lord Blackwood led a sortie that destroyed the Lannister host camped on the central bank facing Riverrun.

The sound of cheering was heard late into the night as the men and Jon watched the remaining Lannister soldiers flee back across the Tumblestones. Riverrun was now back in Tully hands.

* * *

**Catelyn**

The two victories that had been won today had been celebrated long into the early hours of the morning, with the men proclaiming Robb and Jon the saviours of the Riverlands, Jon had won himself acclaim for disarming the Kingslayer himself and Robb won acclaim for his tactical nous. Both of her boys had celebrated with the men and Catelyn knew that they would both be nursing sore heads today, and so she thought that she was right for feeling guilty for what she was about to do. For it would almost certainly unbalance all they knew and she prayed that they could understand and forgive her for doing this.

She walked into the room that Robb had claimed as his own, and found Jon there the two boys were sharing a joke over something or the other with Theon, and when they noticed her standing in the room Theon made to leave but Catelyn had decided that if Robb were to know then Theon needed to as well. “Please stay Theon, though if you could close the door I would be most grateful.” Theon did just that and once she heard the door close, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Robb had a look of concern on his face “What is it mother? Has something bad happened to father or to the girls?”

Catelyn breathed deeply before saying “No nothing has happened to your father or to the girls.”

“Then what is wrong mother?” Jon asked, and Catelyn’s heart tightened painfully at that would he still call her that when he knew the truth.

“I have come to tell you something that has been kept a secret for many a year now. I have come to tell you the truth of to whom Jon’s mother is.” Silence greeted her words and all three boys looked confused.

Jon was the first to break the silence by saying “But you are my mother, mother. Maybe I was not born to you but you have always been my mother.”

Catelyn could feel the tears building in her eyes at Jon’s words and said “That is true Jon, but you must understand that though I see you as my son, you are actually my nephew.”

“What do you mean mother?” Robb asked “How can Jon be your nephew if he is father’s son?”

Catelyn inhaled deeply before saying “Because Ned is not your father Jon. Rhaegar Targaryen is, and Lyanna Ned’s sister is your mother.”

Silence once again greeted her words before Jon said “No that can’t be true! How can Lyanna be my mother, she died, how can I be the son of a man who raped a girl who was many years his junior!”

Catelyn’s heart broke as she saw the hurt and pain on Jon’s face and wanted to soothe him but could not find the words to do so, and was surprised when Theon said “It’s simple isn’t it Jon? We know that Lord Eddard rode to war with Robert Baratheon when his sister was taken, and that Rhaegar only came back to the normal world before the Trident. And when Lord Eddard rode to the Tower of Joy he found three knights of the Kingsguard there protecting his sister, and her child. You.”

Catelyn nodded and said “Jon the three Kingsguard were there to protect Lyanna and her unborn child and when your father rode there they would not move for they believed they were protecting the last heir to the Targaryen dynasty, after the sack you were King. Afterwards Ned took you for his own after he promised Lyanna to protect you and claimed you as his bastard to protect you from Robert and from those who would use you for your last name.”

Jon did not reply but Robb did and he asked “And father told you all of this mother?”

Catelyn nodded again and said “Yes at first he didn’t but then he did, and made me promise to never tell anyone else apart from Jon when the time was right.”

Finally Jon spoke and his voice shook “And why are you telling me now mother?”

Catelyn could not answer that she could only say “I understand if you are hurt or confused Jon but we only did this because we love you and we wanted to protect you.”

Jon merely stood there for a moment before saying “Leave. Robb and Theon leave.”

Both looked like they wished to protest but a look from Catelyn sent them scampering away.

Jon stood stock still though his hands were shaking and his eyes were red from repressed tears when he looked at her and said “So if what you say is true then I am a dragon not a wolf and I am the rightful king to the Iron Throne?” Catelyn merely nodded.

Jon looked at her then and said in voice she had last heard when Theon had called him a bastard all those years ago “I’m scared mother, I’m scared and lost.”

“Oh Jon, sweetling I’m here for you, you’re not lost you’ll never be lost.” And she threw her arms around him wrapping him in a tight embrace as Jon buried his head into her shoulder and cried like he had once done when he was a child, and Catelyn could only hope he would be able to continue living.

* * *

**Eddard**

The ground surrounding the Great Sept of Baelor was packed full of people, here to watch him confess to a crime he had supposedly committed. Cersei Lannister had promised him that if he “confessed” that he would be able to take the black and that his daughters would be safe. But Varys had told him that was a lie, that Littlefinger had been whispering in the King’s ear telling him that it would look much better if the traitor was executed for it would send a signal to the realm that Joffrey did not tolerate traitors.

Varys had told him then that Joffrey was planning on doing as Littlefinger advised and that he would continue to torment Sansa afterwards, there would be no happy ending for his little girl unless Ned did the one thing Varys wanted him to do. Denounce Joffrey and Stannis name them usurpers and name Jon as the rightful king of the seven kingdoms and Varys would make sure that Sansa stayed safe and that Arya made it to Riverrun.

As he stepped forward onto the podium to speak to make his confession, Ned’s only thought was of his sister and the promise he had made to her all those years ago _Forgive me Lya, I have done my best to protect your boy, but I will not be able to protect him anymore._

He listened as the High Septon stood forward and spoke “We are gathered here today in sight of the Seven to listen to the confession of the traitor Eddard Stark.”

Ned stepped forward and listened as the crowd booed and hissed at him and felt something hit his body he would have fallen back had it not been for the gold cloaks holding him up. Speaking in a clear voice he said “I am Eddard Stark, former hand of the king, to the late king his grace Robert Baratheon. I stand before you to confess that I betrayed my friend I did not do right by him as I should have done.” This was met by much booing and hissing and Ned was hit by more objects, some of which hit his face causing blood to flow down his cheek, he carried on regardless. “I hid from him secrets that perhaps I should have shared, but I did not try and steal his throne from his son Joffrey Baratheon, for Joffrey is no true Baratheon. Nor is he the true heir to the Iron Throne nor are his uncles Lord Stannis or Lord Renly. No the true heir to the throne is the boy I claimed as my bastard to protect him. The boy known as Jon Snow is the true king of the Seven Kingdoms. He is the sole remaining son and heir of Rhaegar Targaryen who married my sister Lyanna Stark sixteen years ago. His true name is Jon of House Targaryen first of his name, King of the First Men, Andals and Lord Protector of the Realm. I name Joffrey Waters an usurper and a traitor.” He finished speaking and could tell that the crowd had been stunned into silence; he could practically hear Varys trying to contain a titter and thought briefly _you had best keep to your end of the promise Varys, or I shall haunt you from beyond the grave._

Joffrey was the first to break out of the stunned silence yelling “It appears Lord Stark has taken leave of his sense. Ser Illyn bring me his head!”

Just before Ser Illyn brought Ice down on his neck, Ned saw his life flash before his eyes and thought of Cat, of Robb, of Jon and of Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon and prayed to the old gods, keep them safe keep them healthy. Then as he heard his daughter’s scream and the roar of the crowd and felt Ice touch his neck, Eddard Stark Lord of Winterfell thought _Long Live the King._

 

 

 


	6. Ascendancy

**Tyrion**

_“They have my son,” Tywin Lannister said._

_“They do, my lord.” The messenger’s voice was dulled by exhaustion. On the breast of his torn surcoat, the brindled boar of Crakehall was half obscured by dried blood._

_One of your sons, Tyrion thought. He took a sip of wine and said not a word, thinking of Jaime. When he lifted his arm, pain shot through his elbow, reminding him of his own brief taste of battle. He loved his brother, but he would not have wanted to be with him in the Whispering Wood for all the gold in Casterly Rock._

_His lord father’s assembled captains and bannermen had fallen very quiet as the courier told his tale. The only sound was the crackle and hiss of the log burning in the hearth at the end of the long, drafty common room._

_After the hardships of the long relentless drive south, the prospect of even a single night in an inn cheered Tyrion mightily.... though he rather wished it had not been this inn again, with all its memories. His father had set a gruelling pace, and it had taken its toll. Men wounded in battle kept up as best they could or were abandoned to fend for themselves. Every morning they left a few more by the roadside, men who went to sleep never to wake. Every afternoon a few more collapsed along the way. And every evening a few more deserted, stealing off into the dusk. Tyrion had been half-tempted to go with them._

_He had been upstairs enjoying the comfort of a featherbed and the warmth of Shae’s body beside him, when his squire had woken him to say that a rider had arrived with dire news of Riverrun. So it had been all for nothing. The rush south, the endless forced marches, the bodies left beside the road... all for naught. Robb Stark had reached Riverrun days and days ago._

_“How could this happen?” Ser Harys Swyft moaned. “How? Even after Whispering Wood, you had Riverrun ringed in iron, surrounded by a great host.... what madness made Ser Jamie decide to split his men into three separate camps? Surely he knows how vulnerable that would leave them?”_

_Better than you, you chinless craven, Tyrion thought. Jaime might have lost Riverrun, but it angered him to hear his brother slandered by the likes of Swyft, a shameless lickspittle whose greatest accomplishment was marrying his equally chinless daughter to Ser Kevan, and thereby attaching himself to the Lannisters._

_“I would have done the same,” his uncle responded, a good deal more calmly than Tyrion might have. “You have never seen Riverrun Ser Harys, or you would know that Jamie had little choice in the matter. The castle is situated at the end of the point of land where the Tumblestone flows into the Red Fork of the Trident. The rivers form two sides of a triangle, and when dangers threatens, the Tully’s open their sluice gates upstream to create a wide moat on the third side, turning Riverrun into an island. The walls sheer from the water, and from their towers the defenders have a commanding view of the opposite shores for many leagues around. To cut off all the approaches, a besieger must needs place one camp north of the Tumblestone, one south of the Red Fork, and a third between the rivers, west of the moat. There is no other way, none.”_

_“Ser Kevan speaks truly my lords,” the courier said. “We’d built palisades of sharpened stakes around the camps, yet it was not enough, not with no warning and the rivers cutting us off from each other. They came down on the north camp first. No one was expecting an attack. Marq Piper had been raiding our supply trains, but he had no more than fifty men. Ser Jaime had gone out to deal with them the night before...well, with what we thought was them. We were told the Stark host was east of the Green Fork marching south....”_

_“And your outriders?” Ser Gregor Clegane’s face might have been hewn from rock. The fire in the hearth gave a somber orange cast to his skin and put deep shadows in the hollows of his eyes. “They saw nothing? They gave you no warning?”_

_The bloodstained messenger shook his head. “Our outriders had been vanishing. Marq Piper’s work we thought. The ones who did come back had seen nothing.”_

_“A man, who sees nothing, has no use for his eyes.” The mountain declared. “Cut them out and give them to your next outrider. Tell him you hope that four eyes might see better than two... and if not, the man after him will have six.”_

_Lord Tywin Lannister turned his face to study Ser Gregor. Tyrion saw a glimmer of gold as the light shone off his father’s pupils, but he could not have said whether the look one of approval or disgust. Lord Tywin was oft quiet in council, preferring to listen before he spoke, a habit Tyrion himself tried to emulate. Yet this silence was uncharacteristic even for him and his wine was untouched._

_“You said they came at night,” Ser Kevan prompted._

_The man gave a weary nod. “The Blackfish led the van, cutting down our sentries and clearing away the palisades for the main assault.  By the time our men knew what was happening; riders were pouring over the ditch banks and galloping through the camp with swords and torches in hand. I was sleeping in the west camp between the rivers. When we heard the fighting and saw the tents being fired, Lord Brax led us to the rafts and we tried to pole across, but the current pushed us downstream and the Tullys started flinging rocks at us with the catapults on their walls. I saw one raft smashed to kindling and three others overturned, men swept into the river and drowned.... and those who did make it across found the Starks waiting for them on the riverbanks.”_

_Ser Flement Brax wore a silver and purple tabard and the look of a man who cannot comprehend what he has just heard. “My lord father-“_

_“Sorry my lord,” the messenger said. “Lord Brax was clad in plate and mail when his raft overturned. He was very gallant.”_

_The messenger then went onto describe how the crossing between the rivers was overrun as well by Starks and how Lord Umber fired the siege towers and Robb Stark led the butchery of Lannister soldiers. Tyrion could feel his heart beginning to sink as the messenger continued to speak, not only had the remenants of Jaime’s host been defeated they had been massacred. He dreaded to think how many men had survived._

_Lord Lefford was the brave man who asked that question “ How many men managed to escape the butchery?”_

_The messenger swallowed nervously before saying “2000 spearmen and as many bowmen survived my lords and were led back to the Golden Tooth by Ser Forley Prester.”_

_This was met by silence then a sudden out pouring of men shouting one thing or another, many including Ser Harys Swyft and Lord Lefford demanded that they sue for peace with the Stark boy to leave them free to fight Lord Stannis._

_Tyrion snorted “Peace?” He took his cup, swirled his wine around and then threw the cup to the floor watching as it shattered on the ground. “There’s your peace, Ser Harys. My sweet nephew broke it for good and all when he decided to ornament the Red Keep with Lord Eddard’s head. You’ll have an easier time drinking wine from that cup than you will convincing Robb Stark to make peace now. He’s winning or hadn’t you noticed?”_

_“Two battles do not make a war,” Ser Addam insisted. “We are far from lost. I should welcome the chance to try my own steel against this Stark boy.”_

_“Perhaps they would consent to a truce and allow us to trade our prisoners for theirs.”_

_“Unless they trade three for one, we still come out light on those scales,” Tyrion said acidly. “And what are we to offer for my brother? Lord Eddard’s rotting head?”_

_“I had heard that Queen Cersei has the Hand’s daughters,” Lefford said hopefully: “If we give the lad back his sisters back....”_

_Ser Addam snorted disdainfully “He would have to be an utter ass to trade Jaime Lannister’s life for two girls.”_

_“Then we must ransom Ser Jaime, whatever it costs,” Lord Lefford said._

_Tyrion rolled his eyes. “If the Starks feel the need for gold, they can melt down Jaime’s armour.”_

_“If we ask for a truce, they will think us weak,” Ser Addam argued.”We should march on them at once.”_

_“Surely our friends at court could be prevailed upon to join us with fresh troops,” said Ser Harys. “And someone might return to Casterly Rock to raise a new host.”_

_Lord Tywin rose to his feet. “They have my son,” he said once more, in a voice that cut through the babble like a sword through suet. “Leave me all of you.”_

_Ever the soul of obedience, Tyrion rose to depart with the rest, but his father gave him a look. “Not you Tyrion. Remain. And you as well, Kevan. The rest of you out.”_

_Tyrion sat himself down and waited for his father to speak, when his father did speak the words that came out of Lord Tywin’s mouth sounded oddly like agreement “You have it right about Stark. Alive we might have used Lord Eddard to forge a peace with Winterfell and Riverrun, a peace that would have given us the time we need to deal with Robert’s brothers.”_

_Tyrion found himself wanting to know something he had long suspected “Why did Joff have Lord Eddard executed father?”_

_And in a rare moment where Tywin Lannister’s face seemed almost what was the word? Soft he said “Because Lord Eddard denounced Joffrey and said he was not the true king. He also said that Lord Stannis and Renly were not the true heirs to the throne. No he said that his bastard Jon Snow was the rightful King to the throne, as he is the last remaining child of Rhaegar Targaryen through his marriage with Lyanna Stark.”_

_The expression on Tywin Lannister’s face was grim as he spoke and all Tyrion could do was stare at his father, Ser Kevan too was gobsmacked and it was he who spoke first “Surely that cannot be Tywin, there was only Aerys children after the sack left. Lady Lyanna died, how is this possible?”_

_Lord Tywin looked at Tyrion then, and suddenly Tyrion knew how “Because uncle, Rhaegar Targaryen ran away with Lyanna Stark a year after the Toruney of Harrenhal, he was gone for a whole eight months before he returned for the Trident. Enough time to conceive a child with Lady Lyanna. Lord Eddard fought three of the finest knights of the Kingsguard when he went to get his sister from Dorne, including the Lord Commander. Now why else would the three knights of the Kingsguard, who are sworn to protect the king above all else, remain in Dorne after the sack if they were only there to protect Lyanna Stark, why would they not be in Dragonstone with Viserys? Because that child that was Rhaegar’s and Lyanna’s was a boy and was the heir to the throne, they died protecting their king.”_

_Lord Tywin nodded and said “This is why we must deal with the Starks first before they have the opportunity to crown Jon Targaryen, and we lose the chance to ally with other houses. Our position is worse than Lords Lefford and Swyft know though. There is one more king in the land, Renly Baratheon has wed Margaery Tyrell and has been crowned King in Highgarden, he has the strength of the Reach and the Stormlands behind him now.”_

_Lord Tywin looked at Ser Kevan as he spoke next “Kevan unleash Ser Gregor have him burn the Riverlands. I want to draw Robb Stark out into the open again, and this time we shall be waiting for him. We shall make for Harrenhal, write to Stafford and tell him to bring a host up the Golden Tooth; we shall surround Robb Stark and end him.”_

_Ser Kevan nodded and said “It shall be done.”_

_He then turned to Tyrion and said “You shall not be marching to Harrenhal with us, you shall be going to King’s Landing.”_

_Now Tyrion was deeply surprised “Whatever for?”_

_Lord Tywin merely looked at him before saying “To rule, until the war in the Riverlands is over and I can return to the capital. You shall serve as Hand in my name. Reign Joffrey in and bring stability to his rule and if any of these councillors are playing us false on his small council you know what to do.”_

_Tyrion sighed “Spikes. Heads. Walls.”_

_“Now be gone, and do not take that whore of yours to the capital.”_

_\---------------------_

**Sansa**

If she had thought that King’s Landing was a cage before, since her father’s execution it had neigh on become a prison. Everywhere she went she was followed either by a knight of the Kingsguard or by a red cloak, the Lannister guards. She hated it, she hated the city, she hated the Red Keep, she hated Cersei and most of all she hated Joffrey.

Looking back now she could not understand how she had thought herself in love with him, how she had thought him good and kind and better than Jon. Joffrey was not good nor was he kind, he was cruel and evil and she hoped he would die, she prayed for his death frequently. She still remembered when he had taken her out onto the walls of the Red Keep to where her father’s head had been put, and showed her, her father’s rotting head.

_“You see what happens to traitors? Once this war is done, I’ll have you brother and your cousin’s heads on this wall, and I’ll make you come out here and kiss them.” Joffrey had said, a mad gleam in his eyes._

_Sansa had been terrified looking at the already rotting head of her father, and was now petrified that what Joffrey had said would come true._

_Joffrey had quickly gotten bored of standing in front of the heads and had walked back inside, but not before saying “It is to be my nameday soon. What shall you be getting me my lady?” This was what confused Sansa, how Joffrey could be horrible the one minute and so charming the next, she did not understand how or why he was like that, and she found she detested him all the more for it._

_He was nothing like Jon, her Jon who if what father had said was true was the true King of Westeros. The thought alone made her feel giddy, her Jon was a king as well as a true knight oh she couldn’t wait to see him again, and this time she would tell him that she felt that she loved him with all her heart, she desperately wanted to see Jon again and her siblings and mother._

Sansa’s thoughts were interrupted when she heard a knock on her door, calling for whoever it was to come in she found herself looking at the bulky figure of Ser Meryn Trant. She instantly felt the panic and horror that came with seeing a knight of the Kingsguard now, for it could only mean one thing, Joffrey wished to see her.

“The king wishes to see you in the throne room my lady.” Ser Meryn said.

“But, but why? I haven’t done anything wrong. Please don’t make me go, please I promise I won’t do anything bad, please don’t make me go.” Sansa pleaded hating that her voice was beginning to break.

Ser Meryn merely looked at her before saying “I am afraid I cannot do that my lady. The king has asked for your presence in the throne room, and so you can either come of you own free will or I shall have to take you there myself.”

Sansa knew that Ser Meryn would not hesitate to drag her down to the throne room; he had done so before when Joffrey had wanted her to see her father’s head. Sighing she said “I will come Ser Meryn. Lead the way.”

As she followed Ser Meryn out of her room and toward the throne room she couldn’t help the feeling of dread that began to pool in the bottom of her stomach, what could Joffrey want from her? Why would he wish to speak with her in the throne room?

It turned out that Joffrey was holding court in the throne room when she arrived, listening to the people both lords and small folk bring their woes and questions to him, he had a completely bored look on his face and more often than not ordered a very harsh order concerning the relevant case that he heard, something that Sansa knew instinctively that neither Robb nor Jon would do, they would actually pay attention to what was being said.

Much to her horror, the only time Joffrey really seemed to pay attention was when there was some dispute that was brought before him. Then he would get the same mad gleam in his eyes that he had had when he had showed her, her father’s head and he would more often than not order the two people involved in the dispute whipped, flayed or have them fight to the death. It scared Sansa just how cruel Joffrey could truly be, and it made her question why she had ever truly thought she loved him, he was nothing like Jon at all, where Joffrey was all fake smiles and cruelty, Jon though he smiled rarely when he did smile, Sansa remembered that it lit up his whole face and made him seem like a prince- king really she supposed- and he was king and honourable, just the sort of man father wanted for her.

Sansa found out why Joffrey had summoned her to the throne room, soon after the last of the appeals had been heard. He called her forward and said “Do you know why I summoned you hear Sansa?”

“No your grace?” Sansa said fear beginning to creep up in her.

“Your traitor of a brother and cousin fought against my uncle’s army at Riverrun a few days hence. My uncle lost the battle and was captured, my mother says that your traitor of a brother only won through deceit and trickery, she says that northmen have no honour nor are they real men who fight properly, she says that they are savages. And do you know what we do with savages my lady?”

Sansa shook her head, no she did not know what he did with savages.

Joffrey had a mad sound in his voice when he said “We beat them. Ser Meryn.”

And before she knew it, Sansa was being knocked to the ground having just been punched in the stomach by Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard.

Sansa lay on the ground winded, but she heard Joffrey none the less “I do not think she is any less savage Ser Meryn pick her up and do it again.”

Sansa felt herself being lifted up into a standing position once more, only to feel Ser Meryn gloved fist hit her stomach again and again until blood began to come out of her mouth.

She was relieved when Joffrey called for it to stop. “Dog give her your cloak to tidy herself up, we are having guests tonight and I do not wish for my lady to look like the savage she is.”

\------------------

 

**Varys**

The cells where the dragon skulls were kept deep beneath the Red Keep was a good a place as any to have secret conversations that you did not wish for others to hear, the Spider had found over the years. And now the place seemed even more fitting to hold this particular conversation, considering the dragons were coming back to life both figuratively and physically.

Varys had not truly believed that Eddard Stark would have confessed his greatest secret before the whole of King’s Landing, he had thought the man would have said the words that Cersei Lannister had put in his mouth, and he would have been executed by Joffrey anyway. But he had confessed his greatest secret and now the whole of King’s Landing knew the truth about Jon Snow’s parentage, the King Joffrey was becoming more and more paranoid by the day, and was doing things that even his mother was unable to stop him from doing, such as beating the Lady Sansa. Varys knew that Jon Targaryen knew the truth of his parentage now, his spies within the Stark- Tully camp had reported as much. All they needed now was for the two Baratheon brothers to put aside their quarrel and the Lannisters would be finished.

“You think too much, my friend.” Varys turned to look at the darkened figure of Illyrio Mopatis and laughed.

“Ah but it is us deep thinkers who always come out on top old friend. All of our planning is coming to fruition.”

“That is so, but how do we know that our King will truly end up on the winning side. I have heard disturbing rumours old friend. It is said that your Lord Stannis has a red priestess with him on Dragonstone. You know she believes him to be the chosen one come again; she will not let her chosen king kneel, not without a fight. How are we to defend our king from her should she choose to send her creations after him?”

Varys sighed and said “Stannis Baratheon is a man wed to his honour and duty. Once he receives word of Eddard Stark’s death and his last confession he will try and bend the knee to our king, if the red woman tells him to fight then we shall kill her and then kill him. Renly will be a more complicated matter. He has the Tyrells with him and they are not so loyal as they once were, they want their daughter to be queen and for a grandson to be king. They will not achieve that with our king, for he loves the Lady Sansa. They may join with the Lannisters should Renly die.”

Varys heard Illyrio breathe deeply as they walked past the huge skull of Balerion the Black Dread. “And where is our white knight my friend?”

Varys replied “I have sent Ser Barristan to Riverrun along with Arya Stark as a sign of good faith for our king. He was there in the grounds when Eddard Stark made his confession, he knows his duty, he already regrets serving King Robert, and shall feel honour bound to serve the rightful king.”

Illyrio laughed then “You always did know how to read people well my old spider. But pray tell would it not have been better to send old Ser Barristan to Danaerys, to make her cause seem more honourable?”

Varys replied “No, Danaerys is a lost cause; you told me she was lost with her Khal somewhere in the Red Waste she shall not be marching to Westeros anytime soon. No even with her two dragons she shall not be here soon. We need to act fast and quickly, tell me my friend how is our black dragon doing?”

Illyrio chuckled “That depends which black dragon you speak of? The boy or the egg?”

“Both.”

“The boy is dying of a fever on the Shy Maid, Jon Connington is beside himself. The fool still thinks of him as Rhaegar Targaryen’s son. Septa Lemore however, knows the truth and wrote me before I came asking to see her beloved Brandon’s nephew. The egg is of course with Ser Barristan and shall be ready to hatch once our king touches it; I was assured by my friends on Dragonstone.”

“Very well then,” Varys said. “Until we meet again.”

And with that the Spider and the cheesemonger went their separate ways for the time being to plot anew.

\----------------

**Catelyn**

News of Ned’s death had reached them that morning in Riverrun, and it had hit the Lords and her boys hard. Catelyn herself felt numb, numb to the pain, numb to the grief, numb to the condolences being given to her by her son’s bannermen and her father’s. All she could think of was how she would never see Ned again, how she would never feel his arms on her chest, or see his smiles that made her feel like she was the Queen of the world, her children would never get to see their father again.

She had had to put aside her grief though when she had gone to look for Robb and Jon after hearing the news. Jon had still been in shock from learning the truth of his parentage, and Catelyn could tell just by looking at him sat on the base of a tree in the Godswood staring blankly into space whilst Robb hacked and slashed his sword to pieces that the news of the death of the only man he had seen as his father had deeply affected him. It had deeply affected all of them.

Robb had stopped his furious attack on the tree when he heard her step on a twig, and had turned to her with red eyes, still crying he had dropped his sword and rushed into her outstretched arms and had muffled oaths of killing all the Lannisters in existence into her shoulder. At that moment Robb was not the fifteen year old man who was leading a host to war, nor was he the fifteen year old Lord of Winterfell, in that moment he was her boy, who had lost his father and was scared and was grieving all at once.

She had told him in the only way she knew how through her grief and pain that they had to get the girls back, then they would kill the Lannisters every single last one of them. Jon had remained quiet throughout, and Catelyn feared that he would never speak again, when they had called a council meeting in the great hall of Riverrun, Robb had told her that Jon was not even speaking to him or Theon or Torrhen Karstark, he was remaining deathly silent. He had maintained his silence throughout the whole of the council meeting which had been called to discuss their next move.

Many of the lords were all for keeping the fighting going, not wanting to let the Lannisters get off easy after killing their liege lord. Catelyn’s attempts to bring the Lords to sue for peace had been shot down, Robb had drawn his sword and said that was the only peace he had for the Lannisters, Catelyn knew she had lost them when Lord Blackwood proposed that why should they bend the knee to the king who had burned their homes and killed their people and Lord Bracken had agreed.

Throughout this the discussion often altered back between whom they should declare for Stannis or Renly. Robb had argued against declaring for Renly saying “Lord Renly is Robert’s younger brother, that does not make him king for Bran cannot inherit Winterfell before me can he and so Renly cannot become king before Stannis.”

Marq Piper had argued fiercely for declaring for Renly stating that with Highgarden and the Stormlords behind him he was a force to be reckoned with and that if they were to declare for him Dorne would not be far behind nor would the Vale, the Lannisters would be outmatched and what did Stannis Baratheon bring to the table. When he put it like that Catelyn could see the sense in declaring for Renly though she knew Lysa would never call her banners, especially not if the Lannisters saw fit to send Petyr to her.

Throughout all of these discussion Jon remained quiet and Catelyn wondered what he was thinking for she knew that he had the only rightful claim to the throne out of all the contenders, but he seemed to content to be quiet, even Ghost who was sat at his feet gave no indication as to what Jon’s feeling were, though Greywind’s moving around the hall showed Robb’s frustration.

Eventually Catelyn could tell Robb had had enough as he raised his voice and spoke in what she had come to associate as his Lord’s voice said “My Lords, it is all well and good speaking about which Baratheon brother to declare for. But it would be all for naught as they do not have the true claim to the Iron Throne.”

_Careful Robb, tread carefully here._  Catelyn thought as she saw Jon look up for the first time in the council session.

“If not them then who my lord?” Catelyn heard Ser Stevron ask.

“Why the last surviving son of the dynasty that created the Iron Throne and united the Seven Kingdoms of course. The last son of Rhaegar Targaryen.” Robb said

“But all the dragons are dead my lord!” Catelyn heard Lord Umber protest.

Robb however, had a wry grin on his face when he replied “No my lord, no they are not. For one of them sits before now,” Catelyn watched transfixed as her son got down on one knee before Jon, drawing his sword and laying at Jon’s feet, she heard him say “I am you brother now and always.”

To which Jon replied “Now and always.”

Robb smiled up through his hair at Jon and said “Then I Robb Stark, Lord Of Winterfell do hereby pledge my sword and my fealty to you Jon Targaryen rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, from this day to my last. I swear it by ice, I swear it by fire, I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

Catelyn watched as Theon Greyjoy followed Robb and got down on bended knee and said “ I Theon Greyjoy, heir to the Iron Islands, hereby pledge my sword and my fealty to you Jon Targaryen rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, from this day to my last. I swear it by salt, I swear it by sea. I swear it by the Drowned God, the Old Gods and the New.”

Catelyn continued to watch as more and more of Robb’s and her father’s bannermen got down on bended knee and pledged their swords and their fealty to Jon, recognising him as their rightful king, and rightful king of Westeros.

She watched and heard as the Greatjon bellowed at the top of his lungs “Long Live The Dragons! Long Live the King!”

She heard as all the other lords in the room including her son and her brother shouted “Long Live the King, Long Live King Jon!”

Next to her Ghost and Greywind began to howl and she could have sworn she heard the roaring of dragons from ages past. The Dragons were back.

 

 

 

 


	7. Brave This Storm

**Tyrion**

_King’s Landing was as big and as foul a city as he remembered it being. Tyrion had been to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms exactly four times in his whole life before now. The first time had been for his sister’s wedding when he was no more than a boy, the last three times had all been for tournaments. This was a city full of vipers and Tyrion had the feeling he was going to like living here, at least for the time being._

_His first day serving as Hand of the King had not however, gone accordingly. He had at first been refused entry into the Small Council chamber by Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard, and only after subtly threatening the man’s safety had he finally albeit grudgingly allowed in. His sister had greeted him coldly questioning why it was he, and not their father who was in the city, why it was he and not their father who had come to curb Joffrey’s madness, why it was he and not Jamie who had been sent to help defend the city. She had asked him, or more like demanded these answers from him in front of the whole of the small council and Tyrion had had to ask of a private talk with his sister before he could deem it sufficient to give her the answers he had._

_Looking back now he knew that the answers he had given Cersei had not been entirely truthful nor had they really helped his cause in anyway. Cersei seemed to be growing more and more paranoid by the day, fearful it seemed for her and Joffrey’s safety should Stannis or Renly took it into their heads to invade King’s Landing. She spared not a thought for Tommem or Myrcella, and it was only when Tyrion had played a trick on Pycelle, Littlefinger and Varys as to whom the Prince and the Princess were to be marrying that she had truly shown any interest in her two younger children at all. Questioning whom he thought he was to betroth Myrcella to a Prince of Dorne, when Dorne were just as likely to kill Myrcella as welcome her with open arms. As usual she had missed the point; Dorne had yet to declare for anyone of the Kings currently fighting in the realm, and could provide a suitable distraction for the forces of Highgarden should they so choose to do so. They only needed a reason to mobilise their spears, and by betrothing Myrcella to Prince Trystane, Tyrion had explained, he hoped to give them such a reason._

_Of course what he hadn’t mentioned was that he hoped to get Myrcella and Tommem away from Cersei’s maddening influence and try and prevent them from becoming like Joffrey, who by all accounts was turning into a right little tyrant of a monarch. Twice Tyrion had walked into the Throne Room to see him having Sansa Stark beaten by men of the Kingsguard simply because of her last name, Tyrion had questioned him as to whether he had completely taken leave of his sense that he thought beating his betrothed whose cousin had declared himself king and was winning that side of the war was really a good idea. Joffrey had of course replied with an answer that was so Cersei in nature, Tyrion was surprised that she was not the one sitting the Iron Throne. Joffrey had said that Sansa was a traitor and a savage and that savages needed to be brought to heel through any means necessary._

_One look at Sansa Stark after the second beating told Tyrion all he needed to know. Joffrey had lost any love or loyalty that she may have had for him, and so he had put himself in significantly more danger than if he had only let her be. For though Sansa Stark seemed to be demure little lady, there was a steel in those Tully blue eyes, that reminded Tyrion of the steel he had seen in Eddard Stark’s eyes at Winterfell, Tully she may look but the girl had the hardness of the North in her veins, and there was a common saying amongst the small folk “The North Remembers.” At the rate Jon Snow- or was it Targaryen?- was winning battles it was very likely that all of their heads- Joffrey, Cersei, Tyrion, Jaime and Tywin- would be gracing spikes up on the walls of the Red Keep._

_News that a host led by Gregor Clegane had been severly defeated at the Battle of the Red Fork, by forces led by Jon had severly worsened spirits amongst the Lannisters in King’s Landing. Clegane himself had managed to retreat back to Harrenhal with some three hundred men out of the 2000 he had left with. Though there was some good news to be had for all of this, King Jon had allowed his riverlords to retreat back to their own holdfasts and castles to drive out the remaining Lannister forces not at Harrenhal and to bring in one last harvest. This news Tyrion knew gave his father a small opening to perhaps lay siege to Riverrun once again, and with Tyrion’s uncle Stafford assembling another host at Casterly Rock, by the time King Jon knew what was happening he would be surrounded and unable to move. Something that would hopefully give them a chance to deal with the Baratheon brothers, both of whom it seemed were content to simply allow the Lannisters and the Starks to spend their forces on each other before probably making a claim on King’s Landing itself. It was surprising Tyrion had to admit that Stannis had not yet declared for King Jon, given the fact that the man was so wedded to his duty and honour, Tyrion had assumed he would rally behind the man Lord Eddard Stark had named as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, something Tyrion knew was the truth given Joffrey’s actual parentage but that was hardly something he would care to share with either his nephew or sister, if he wished to keep his head._

* * *

**Jon**

The crown that sat atop his curls felt heavy upon his head but Jon dared not take it off, lest it be seen as a sign of weakness. He still had a hard time believing that he was truly king, everything had happened so fast one moment he had been grieving with Robb over the death of the only man he had ever known as his father, the next Robb was bending the knee to him and declaring him the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, as did the rest of the men in Riverrun, be they northern lords or Riverlords, they had all declared him their King, the Seven Kingdoms King, and so Jon Snow the former bastard of Eddard Stark, had become Jon Targaryen son Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, and King. It all seemed like a dream some sort of nightmarish dream that never seemed to end.

He had been crowned officially in the sept of Riverrun, the Septon had placed a crown which contained the runes of the first men and the written letters of the Andals and had seven blades face upward representing the seven kingdoms on his head, and had declared him King Jon Targaryen, King of the First Men, Andals, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Jon had sworn to himself that he would try and be a good king, he would try and make his father- uncle really- his aunt, and Robb proud, he wanted to be a king that knew his subjects and a king that put their needs above his own. This was why he was sat in the great hall of Riverrun with Robb by his right hand side, waiting for Ser Cleos Frey to be brought from his cell.

When the herald announced Ser Cleos’ arrival Jon straightened up in the chair he was sat in and then called for his sword.

_Robin Ryger said “Your grace here is the man you asked for.”_

_“Kneel before the king Lannister!” Jon heard Theon Greyjoy shout._

_The man kneeling before him did not look a Lannister, he did not have the blonde hair or the arrogant looking green eyes, nor the proud jutting of chest that the man’s cousin the Kingslayer had. No this man was all Frey, he had the weasel look about him for sure._

_“Rise Ser Cleos.” Jon said trying to keep his voice as commanding as possible as he watched Ghost walk round him sniffing him, through Ghost Jon could smell the fear radiating of the man, which multiplied further when Greywind joined his brother in sniffing Ser Cleos._

_“Thank you my Lord.” Ser Cleos said._

_“Your Grace!” Barked Jon Umber, ever the man to show his loyalty to Jon and to Robb._

_“Your Grace,” Ser Cleos said hastily “Pardons.”_

_It would have taken Jaime Lannister much more than that to get him to give Jon his title, Jon thought, the man would more than likely want to dance with a bear than acknowledge me as king. Then again Freys are often a chinless sort._

_“I brought you from your cell to carry my message to your cousin Cersei Lannister in King’s Landing. You’ll travel under a peace banner, with thirty of my best men t escort you.”_

_Ser Cleos was visibly relieved. “Then I should be most glad to bring his Grace’s message to the queen.”_

_“Understand, “Jon said his voice becoming like iron “I am not giving you, your freedom. Your grandfather Lord Walder pledged my cousin his support and that of House Frey. Many of your cousins and uncles rode with us in the Whispering Wood, but you did not. You chose to fight under a lion banner that makes you a Lannister not a Frey. I want your pledge, on your honour as a knight, that after you deliver my message you’ll return with the Queen’s reply and resume your captivity.”_

_Ser Cleos replied at once “I do so vow.”_

_“Every man in this hall has heard you,” warned Lord Edmure Tully who spoke for Riverrun and the Lords of the Trident in place of his dying father. “If you do not return, the whole realm will know you forsworn.”_

_“I will do as I pledged, “Ser Cleos replied stiffly. “What is this message?”_

_“An offer of peace, “Jon said standing with sword in hand Ghost moved to his side. The hall grew hushed. “Tell the Queen Regent that if she meets my terms I shall sheath this sword and end this war between us.” Out of the corner of his eye Jon could see Torrhen Karstark holding onto his father’s arm, preventing him from storming out of the hall._

_Jon continued drawing the paper out of his sleeve “First the queen must release my cousins and provide them with transport by sea from King’s Landing to White Harbour. It is to be understood that Sansa’s betrothal to Joffrey Waters is at an end.  When I receive word from Winterfell’s castellan that my cousins have returned unharmed, I will release the queen’s cousins, the squire Willem Lannister and your brother Tion Frey, and give them safe escort to Casterly Rock or wheresoever’s she desires them delivered.  Secondly my lord uncle’s bones will be returned to us so that he may be buried in the crypts beneath Winterfell as he would have wished. The remains of the men of his household guard who died in his service in King’s Landing are also to be returned.  Third the greatsword Ice must be delivered to my cousin Robb’s hand here at Riverrun. Fourthly the queen will command Lord Tywin to release those knights and lords bannermen of my cousin and Lord Edmure that he took captive during the battle of the Green Fork of the Trident. Once he does so, I shall release my own captives taken in the Whispering Wood and the Battle of the Camps save Jaime Lannister who will remain my hostage for his father’s good behaviour. Lastly Joffrey Waters and Cersei Lannister must renounce all claims to holding the Iron Throne, Cersei Lannister must spend the remainder of her days either in the Silent Sisters or in Casterly Rock. Joffrey Waters for the crime of executing my Lord Uncle for no rime nor reason can suffer either death by execution or he can take the black it is up to him. Tommem and Myrcella Waters shall become wards of the Iron Throne and will be free to do as they wish once they come of age. Tywin Lannister must also revoke his claim to Casterly Rock and take the black as must his son Tyrion Lannister.  In addition the Lannisters and their bannermen must deliver ten highborn hostages each year as a pledge of peace, which shall be treated as honoured guests as befits their rank and station. I shall release two hostages each year and return them safely to their families. These are my terms Ser Cleos; if she meets them the land shall know peace. If not then winter shall come for her and hers with Fire and Blood.”_

_“The Queen shall here your message Your Grace.” Ser Cleos said looking the colour of curdled milk._

_“Good, then we are done here. Ser Robin see that he has a good meal and clean clothing. He’s to ride at first light.”_

_“As you command your grace.” Ser Robin Ryger replied._

Jon sat down as Ser Cleos was led away and turned to look at Robb then and said “What is next Lord Stark?”

Robb had a wry grin on his face when he replied “One more petitioner your grace and that is that.”

Jon nodded “Good bring them forward. I would hear them speak.”

As he said those words Jon saw an old man with a cane and a young boy with closely cropped brown hair step forward. There was something familiar about the boy, though Jon could not quite place what it was. He felt like he had seen the boy somewhere before, though he could not be sure.

“What is your business here good friend?” Jon asked.

The old man spoke then “ I have travelled many a mile Your Grace, to return to your family something that it lost when Lord Eddard was executed.”

Jon was curious now and he could tell Robb and Aunt Catelyn were as well, so he asked “And what could this possibly be good friend?”

The old man smiled then and turned to the boy and said “Show them your eyes girl.”

And the person Jon had thought a boy did that, and Jon nearly had a heart attack looking at him were the same grey eyes as his,  those grey eyes that belonged to a girl he had called little sister for as long as she had been alive, whom he had last seen in Winterfell all those years ago. “Arya!” He whispered.

And Arya it was, for only she could race up the stairs to where he sat in such quick time and throw herself into his arms without a care for the people watching. As she hugged him tightly and Jon hugged her back just as tightly, he said “Good Ser, I thank you for bringing my cousin back to us safely. Whatever reward you wish if it is in my power to grant it, you shall have it, you need only name it.”

As Arya disentangled herself from Jon, and ran to hug Robb then ran down the steps to hug and stand beside her mother, the old man had drawn his sword and had laid it down on the ground and had kneeled beside it and spoke in a voice of iron “Your Grace, the only reward that I could truly wish is that you grant me the chance to make up for the sins I have committed in my life, and give me the chance to serve you as I once served your father and grandfather.”

Jon was intrigued now “You, you served my father good ser? You served Prince Rhaegar Targaryen?”

“Aye Your Grace I did. I fought beside him at the Trident during Robert’s Rebellion. I should have kept fighting for your uncle and grandfather and never have bent the knee.” The old man replied.

“Who are you?” Jon heard Robb ask, though Jon had begun to suspect who the man could be.

“I am Barristan Selmy my lord, known as Ser Barristan the Bold. A knight of the Kingsguard since I was twenty and three, and I would serve the rightful king of Westeros till the end of my days if he shall have me. That is the only reward I ask for.”

Jon looked at Ser Barristan for a long moment considering what he had just heard, the man had fought alongside Prince Rhaegar and had seen him grow up, there was some innate part of Jon that wanted to know more about the man whose seed he was, but more insistently there was a part of him that knew that with Ser Barristan fighting alongside him, he could draw more men to the cause and besides Ser Barristan had returned Arya to them, when the Lannisters had not even said she was missing.

Having made up his mind Jon said “Very well. Ser Barristan I accept your request and shall name you to my Kingsguard as Lord Commander. If that is all, you may all go, except yourself Ser Barristan and you Robb. Mother and Arya I shall allow you two to rest in your rooms.”

As the rest of the lords began to file out of the Great Hall, Jon remained seated on his chair and stroked Ghost’s fur wondering what Ser Barristan could tell him off the Lannister’s plans. When the last lord had left the room and the doors to the Great Hall had closed behind him, Jon rose up of his chair and made for the middle of the room where Ser Barristan stood, Robb and Greywind followed Jon into standing next to Ser Barristan.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Ser Barristan spoke, “Your Grace, I have come bearing more items, I could not present them to you in front of court for I was unsure if there would be Lannister spies within the ranks. But the person who made it possible for your sister and myself to come before you today, told me to give you these two things.”

Ser Barristan handed Jon a letter that was sealed with a symbol of a spider on the back and an egg, but not just any egg Jon realised it was a dragon egg, black dragon egg with swirls of red on it, that began to shake as soon as Jon touched it and he could feel the live from within it struggling to get out and when he rubbed his right hand over the top of the egg, it broke open and in the remains of the egg sat in the palm of his left hand was baby black dragon with red eyes.

“Incredible.” Jon whispered.

“Indeed. “Ser Barristan said.

“Now you have the two living symbols of your house Jon.” Robb joked.

Jon merely grinned at Robb before turning to Ser Barristan and asking “Who sent you Ser Barristan and who gave you the egg?”

Ser Barristan merely said “Read the letter your grace and it shall explain all.”

So Jon broke open the seal and together with Robb read the letter Ser Barristan had given him:

_Your Grace,_

_If you are reading this then I shall assume that Ser Barristan was able to get you unharmed and unscathed and was successful in returning Lady Arya to yourself and Lord Robb and Lady Catelyn. You may be wondering whom in this city of lions would wish to help you or the Starks, but let me just say that I have seen enough innocents killed to know that the Lannisters would stop at nothing if it meant harming your progress to what is yours by rights._

_I have been keeping an eye on you since the day your uncle Lord Eddard brought you to Winterfell, for I have eyes and ears everywhere. Everything has been done to ensure that you remained protected and were allowed to grow up young and healthy and have the life that your siblings Aegon and Rhaenys could not have._

_I know that you may be wondering what to do next, considering that Lord Tywin is camped at Harrenhal and you destroyed Gregor Clegane’s host at the Red Fork. I would suggest invading the Westerlands and drawing Lord Tywin out of Harrenhal would be a good idea. I would also suggest sending someone from your camp to treat with Lord Renly, for though the man has crowned himself king he will be more willing to bend the knee to you if given the right terms, for truly it is the Tyrells who control him and not the other way around. Stannis Baratheon is under the influence of a red priestess from Asshai who will likely try and get him to fight you. DO not worry as even as you read this I am working on dealing with her._

_As for the Lady Sansa, I am doing all I can to see her safely returned to you and your cousin, never fear._

_Yours faithfully,_

_The Spider._

Jon and Robb finished reading the letter at the same time and at the last word turned to each other and said “Varys.”

* * *

**Davos**

“Surely my lord cannot mean to fight against Jon Targaryen! Eddard Stark named him the rightful king before he was executed why would he lie?” Davos asked

“I know not why Ser Davos. All I know is that the Lady Melisandre and my Lady wife have told me time and time again that this Jon Targaryen is an usurper and is not the chosen one and that therefore I must fight him.” Stannis replied.

“But my lord, of course they would say that. So fervent is their devotion in that Red Heathen that they would will you to kill a child if it pleased their god. But you are not that sort of man my lord. You are just man; you are a man who believes in honour and duty. Eddard Stark was a man similar to you, he did not lie either, so why should you betray your vows and fight against a man that by all rights is your lawful king. You know that Joffrey is not Robert’s son, so why not fight for the man who is Prince Rhaegar’s son?”

Stannis seemed frustrated as if he were unsure whether or not to curse or praise Davos for his constant logical arguments. “I know that Davos, I know that. It is just that when the rebellion was fought and won the Targaryens lost their claim to the throne, for Robert and House Baratheon had won it through conquest. If this Jon Targaryen wishes to win the throne he too shall need to win it through conquest. But then why not go for another Baratheon king, and if so why not me it is my right as Robert’s only true heir.”

Davos replied “Because your grace, the Lannisters would never let you on that throne so long as Joffrey Waters lives. But if you were to support King Jon then surely you would get the rewards you deserve, surely there is more honour is supporting the rightful king than supporting a dynasty that has a baseborn incest born bastard as its head?”

Davos knew he almost had Stannis on side but before he could put another argument forward, Lady Melisandre or the red woman as Davos called her entered the room and said “There is no use fighting it my lord Davos, his grace is the one true king of Westeros and the only one capable of fighting the darkness and bringing the light. He is Azor Azahi come again, and he must be king.”

“But that would be going against everything Lord Stannis stands for!” Davos argued.

Lady Melisandre smiled and said “Jon is just a boy, he knows nothing of the upcoming fight, he knows nothing of darkness. He is not the king or the chosen one. Besides your brother Renly has crowned himself King.”

Stannis looked up from his brooding when she said that and Davos knew he had lost when Stannis said “Renly has crowned himself king? Ser Davos send word to the men; we sail for Storm’s End at first light.”

 

* * *

 

**Varys**

Oh it was so very cleverly done Varys could almost have applauded Littlefinger. Of course he would have had the attention of Littlefinger’s little bout of treason had not been focussed on getting Sansa Stark away from the capital.  Littlefinger had thought he was so smart by writing the note and then giving it to Ser Dontos to give to one of Sansa Stark’s serving girls, thinking that no one would ever be able to trace it back to him.

Of course what Littlefinger did not know was that the spies he thought were his, were in fact Varys’s had always been Varys’s all the handmaidens that reported to Cersei belonged to Varys and only reported to Cersei what Varys told them to, it was all too much fun letting all these people think they knew how to play the game when really Varys was playing all of them. For he and his family had been playing this game since the Iron Throne had been made, of course he was going to be an expert at how to play against the odds and win each and every time.

So he sent one of his little birds to the godswood to listen to Ser Dontos drunkenly promise to take the Lady Sansa back home to her mother and brother, all the while knowing that really what Littlefinger planned on doing was using her to claim the north or perhaps even wedding her. Once the conversation was done Varys had told the little bird watching it to bump into Sansa Stark and slip a note into her pocket. The note said something along the lines of :

_Trust not in mockingbirds for they are fickle creatures, one snagged a trout and thought himself in love. Trust not the rose that will come to the lion’s den. Trust not the spider who works diligently for the lion. But do trust that the wolf and the dragon shall emerge victorious and your king shall be yours again._

He could only hope she was as smart as she seemed and would figure out what he meant in due time. He did not think the king would thank him otherwise


	8. A Time For Alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merged the timeline abit.

**Jon**

Riverrun was warmer than Winterfell, even in autumn. That was something Jon had quickly become aware of during their current month and a half stay in his mother’s ancestral home. Whilst in some instances that was better for the army i.e. in terms of them needing to use less wood for fuel and such, in other terms it made Jon yearn for the simplicity of life in Winterfell all the more, where he didn’t have to wear a bloody crown on his head or hear people call him Your Grace all the time or even have a white shadow, (shadows he supposed now that Ser Perwyn had been given the white cloak by Ser Barristan.) It was not that he did not truly wish to give up the crown not now at least, it was just that sometimes he found the pressure and expectations that surrounded him to be crippling and he often found himself wondering what Lord Eddard would have done in his place, for though he had spoken to Ser Barristan about his real father he still did not truly consider himself a Targaryen, which of course made it harder for him to truly believe that the thoughts that he had had about Sansa almost since the day they had marched for war were entirely brotherly.

Of course now that he had called a meeting in the Lord’s Solar in Riverrun for himself, Robb, Lady Catelyn (the woman he would always consider his mother no matter whose womb he had come from), Ser Barristan, the Blackfish and of course Lord Edmure himself, Jon had very little time to truly worry about anything else, he had important news to share. As he watched Lord Edmure enter the solar that would one day be his, Jon couldn’t help but think at the startling likeness between Robb and his uncle it was if he were looking at Robb during two different time stages in his life and when the blackfish entered the room that feeling was intensified threefold, it made him feel rather like laughing, though he did suspect that were he to laugh all three might question his sanity given the nature of the conflict they were currently engaged in.

Ser Barristan sat to Jon’s left as Robb sat to Jon’s right, Lady Catelyn sat to the right of Robb, whilst Lord Edmure sat to her right and the blackfish sat to his right. When they were all seated Jon began “My lords and lady, thank you for coming. I have called this small meeting today to inform you that I have received news from the Vale.” He paused waiting to see what their reactions would be.

It was Catelyn who asked the first question “Has my sister finally come to her senses then and decided to call her banners?”

Jon took a deep breath before saying “Unfortunately not my lady. The letter I received came from Runestone, not the Eyrie. It would appear Lord Royce and some other prominent Vale Lords are quite fed up with staying out of this war and wish to join it. Lord Royce wrote me saying that he is marching down from the Bloody Gate with 20,000 men that will be placed under our disposal to do with as we see fit. I was rather hoping that we could have the full strength of the Vale to help crush the Lannisters but alas I suppose it is not to be.”

Robb turned to his mother and asked her “Why isn’t Aunt Lysa calling her banners mother? Why is she allowing Lord Royce to do her work for her?”

Lady Catelyn gave a deep sigh and then said “Lysa has always been the type of person who would do something wrong and then run away from having to confess to doing it. Equally so when she felt she was in trouble be it from her own actions or those of others she hid and would not come out until she felt it was safe to do so. Now is one such instance. She is scared. Scared for herself and for her son.”

The Blackfish nodded and said “You can expect these 20,000 men that Yohn has mustered to be the most help that the Vale will give us lads. Anyway what do you plan to do with these new men Your Grace?”

Jon looked at Robb who nodded and then said “Well I have talked through with Robb and Ser Barristan and have decided that it would be best if myself, Robb, Ser Barristan and the rest of the northern host rode west to deal with the host of men that Ser Stafford is gathering there and then move on to raid the Westerlands and potentially take Casterly Rock. As you know I have already sent Lord Mallister to Pyke to treat with Balon Greyjoy, but have yet to hear from him. Lord Edmure I want you to write to Lord Bolton and tell him to bring his host south from the Twins. When Tywin Lannister learns that Casterly Rock is under threat of falling he shall wish to march west. He will more than likely divide the command over the main bulk of his host to different people, you are not to allow those divisions to cross Lord Edmure, you are to write to Lord Bolton and tell him to bring men down from the Twins to strike at the middle of the Lannister host, by which point Lord Royce’s men will be here I will write to them and tell them to take Harrenhal and hold it. You are to allow the division commanded by Lord Tywin to pass through to the Westerlands, where we shall be waiting for them. Is that understood?”

“Yes Your Grace.” Lord Edmure replied.

“Good,” said Jon. “Now then seeing as Lord Renly as crowned himself and has wed the Tyrell girl and Lord Stannis has not answered the raven I sent him, I need someone to go and treat with Renly and convince him that bending the knee to me is the best he can hope for. Aunt Catelyn I know that Arya has just been returned to us and you would rather spend your time with her, but you are the only person I fully trust to carry out such a negotiation with Renly. I need Robb with me in the Westerlands, just as I need Lord Edmure and Ser Brynden to hold the Riverlands. Arya would be safe here in Riverrun and you yourself would be escorted by twenty of my best men including Ser Perwyn. What do you say?”

Jon could tell his aunt was not best pleased with what he had suggested but he could almost hear her reciting the words of House Tully to herself in her head ‘Family, Duty, Honour’ which one of those would she use to explain his move to herself he wondered.

“I will go Your Grace, though when I return I shall wish to return to Winterfell. It has been too long since I saw Bran and Rickon.” Catelyn said.

Jon smiled “Of course my lady.”

After that Jon allowed Lord Edmure and Ser Brynden to leave the solar to go and make the appropriate preparations for having to deal with the Lannisters. Jon asked Robb and Catelyn to stay.

Whilst he thought of the most appropriate way to broach the topic of what his heart desired he watched Ghost and Greywind playfully nip at the black dragon that he now found himself the owner of, the dragon which he had named Serrax, had grown frightfully quickly was now the size of a small dog, and Maester Vyman had told him that he would continue to grow until his dying day.

Eventually Robb cleared his throat and asked Jon “You asked me and my mother to stay Your Grace. What is it you wished to talk about that could not be talked about in front of my uncles?”

 Jon shifted uncomfortably before saying “I know that you are betrothed to one of Lord Frey’s daughters Robb, as Arya is betrothed to one of his sons, though she does not like it.” He smiled wryly, before continuing “The thing is I have not been approached by Ser Stevron nor have I received any letter from Lord Walder asking if I would consider betrothing myself to one of his daughters also, I am beginning to wonder why that is.”

Robb gave a shrug, but Catelyn replied “It’s because he’s waiting and watching to see who emerges victorious. With there being so many kings in the land, I can assure you Lord Walder’s caution sensors will be in overdrive. More than likely he will wait until you are sat on the Iron Throne or Tywin Lannister is dead or captured before he proposes another marriage. Therefore if there is someone else you wish to marry Jon, you had best do it now.” She gave him a pointed look then and Jon felt his cheeks heat up, Lady Catelyn he had suspected had always known about his feelings for Sansa, but she had never said anything up until now.

Coughing so as to clear his throat he spoke “Well then that makes matter a whole lot simpler. Robb, I know that we grew up as close as brothers though in fact we are cousins. But I would like to make it so that we were actually brothers. What I’m trying to say is that if you would consent I would like ask Sansa for her hand in marriage.”

Robb was silent for what seemed like an age and for a moment Jon feared that he would outright reject Jon’s proposal, then he broke out into a big grin and said “Of course I do you big idiot Jon. There’s no one I’d rather Sansa marry and I’m sure she’ll tell you that herself once we get her back.”

Jon smiled then and embraced Robb and Lady Catelyn and silently swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to get Sansa back, no matter the cost.

\-------------

 

**Tyrion**

_Tyrion stood in front of his sister and said the words he had been waiting to say from the moment he had read them in a letter. “Stannis has sailed from Dragonstone.”_

_Cersei bolted to her feet “And you sit there grinning like a harvest day pumpkin? Has Bywater called out the City Watch? We must send a bird to Harrenhal at once.” He was laughing by then. She seized him by the shoulders and shook him “Stop it. Are you made or drunk? Stop it!”_

_It was all he could do to get the words out. “I can’t,” he gasped “It’s too ....gods, too funny..... Stannis.....”_

_“What?”_

_“He hasn’t sailed against us,” Tyrion managed. “He’s laid siege to Storm’s End. Renly is riding to meet him.”_

_His sister’s nails dug painfully into his arms. For a moment she stared incredulous, as if he had begun to gibber in an unknown tongue. “Stannis and Renly are fighting each other?” When he nodded, Cersei began to chuckle. “Gods be good,” she gasped, “I’m starting to believe Robert was the clever one.”_

_Tyrion threw back his head and roared. They laughed together. Cersei pulled him off the bed and whirled him around and even hugged him, for a moment as giddy as a girl. By the time she let go of him, Tyrion was breathless and dizzy. He staggered to her sideboard and put out a hand to steady himself._

_“Do you think it will truly come to battle between them? If they should come to some accord-“_

_“They won’t,” Tyrion said “They are too different and yet too much alike, and neither could ever stomach the other.”_

_“And Stannis has always felt he was cheated out of Storm’s End,” Cersei said thoughtfully. “The ancestral seat of House Baratheon, his by rights....if you knew how many times he came to Robert singing the same dull song in that gloomy aggrieved tone he has. When Robert gave the place to Renly he clenched his jaw so tight I thought his teeth would shatter.”_

_“He took it as a slight.”_

_“It was meant as a slight!”_

_“Shall we raise a cup to brotherly love?”_

_“Yes,” she answered breathlessly. “Oh gods yes.”_

_His back was to her as he filled two cups with sweet Arbor red. It was the easiest thing in the world to sprinkle a pinch of fine powder into hers. “To Stannis!” He said as he handed her the wine._

_“To Renly!” she replied laughing. “May they battle long and hard , and the others take them both!”_

_Is this the Cersei that Jaime sees? When she smiled you saw how beautiful she truly was. I loved a maid as fair as summer with sunlight in her hair. He almost felt sorry for poisoning her._

_The next morning when he broke his fast and the messenger brought news that the Queen Regent was indisposed due to an upset stomach and made the appropriate sympathetic noises and sent word to Cersei to rest easy, he would treat with Ser Cleos as they’d planned._

_As he sat on the Iron Throne he looked down on all the people gathered in the throne room and found he liked it. “Call forth Ser Cleos Frey.” His voice rang of the stone walls and down the length of the hall. He liked that too. A pity Shae could not be here to see this, he reflected. She’d asked to come but it was impossible._

_Ser Cleos made the long walk between the gold cloaks and the crimson, looking neither right nor left. As he knelt, Tyrion observed that his cousin was losing his hair._

_“Ser Cleos,” Littlefinger said from the council table, “you have our thanks for bringing us this piece offer from Lord Targaryen.”_

_Grand Maester Pycelle cleared this throat. “The Queen Regent, the King’s Hand and the small council have considered the terms offered by this self styled usurper. Sad to say they will not do and you must tell him so ser.”_

_“Here are our terms,” said Tyrion. “Jon Targaryen must lay down his sword and come to King’s Landing to face trial. Robb Stark and the northmen and the riverlords must come to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the Iron Throne and the return to their respective holdfasts. They must release my brother unharmed and place his host under my brother’s command to March against the rebels Renly and Stannis Baratheon. Each of Targaryen’s bannermen must send us a son as a hostage. A daughter will suffice where there is no son. They shall be treated gently and given high places here at court, so long as their fathers commit no new treasons.”_

_Cleos Frey looked ill. “My Lord Hand,” he said “Lord Targaryen will never consent to these terms.”_

_We never expected he would, Cleos. “Tell him that we have raised a great host at Casterly Rock,  that soon it will march on him from the west while my father advances from the east. Tell him that he stands alone, without a hope of allies. Stannis and Renly Baratheon war against each other and the Prince of Dorne has consented to wed his son Trystane to the Princess Myrcella.” Murmurs of delight and consternation alike arose from the gallery and the back of the hall and out of the corner of his eye Tyrion saw Varys leaning over to the side to hear as a messenger whispered something in his ear. “As to this of my cousins,” Tyrion went on “we offer Harrion Karstark and Ser Wylis Manderly for Willem Lannister and Lord Cerwyn and Ser Donnel Locke for your brother Tion. Tell Lord Targaryen that two Lannisters are worth four northmen in any season.” He waited for the laughter to die. “His uncle’s bones he shall have as well as Ice being returned to his cousin as a sign of good faith from King Joffrey.”_

_“Lord Targaryen asked for his cousins as well.” Ser Cleos reminded him._

_Tyrion glanced toward Sansa and felt a stab of pity as he said “Until such time as he frees my brother Jaime, unharmed they shall remain here as hostages. How well they are treated depends on him.” And if the gods are good, Bywater will find Arya alive before Jon learns she’s gone missing._

_“I shall bring him your message my Lord.”_

_Tyrion plucked at one of the twisted blades that sprung from arm of the throne. And now the thrust. “Vylarr.” He called_

_“My lord.”_

_“The men Targaryen sent should be sufficient to protect Lord Eddard’s bones, but a Lannister should have a Lannister escort,” Tyrion declared. “Ser Cleos is the queen’s cousin and mine. We shall sleep more easily if you would see him safely back to Riverrun.”_

_“As you command. How many men shall I take?”_

_“Why, all of them.”_

_Vylarr stood like a man made of stone. It was Grand Maester Pycelle who rose, gasping “My Lord Hand, that cannot.... your father, Lord Tywin himself, he sent these good men to our city to protect Queen Cersei and her children....”_

_“The Kingsguard and the City watch protect them well enough. The gods speed you on your way Vylarr.”_

_Later, once court was done Tyrion walked with Varys back to the Tower of the Hand and asked him about the messenger and what tiding he had brought._

_Varys looked around and then whispered to Tyrion “Dire news my Lord.”_

_“Oh much dire could news get?” Tyrion wondered._

_“Very much so. Jon Targaryen has been joined by Ser Barristan Selmy, who also brought him his sister the Lady Arya back.”_

_Tyrion was agape with shock “How, how is that possible? When the gold cloaks and red cloaks have been unable to find her that Ser Barristan found her?!”_

_Varys tittered “Perhaps there is a traitor amongst the ranks my Lord. Who knows? But that is not the only news the messenger brought. It seems some of the Lords of the Vale have had enough of their Lady’s neutrality. Lord Royce of Runestone has called 20,000 men to arms and has marched from the Bloody Gate to help the usurper Jon Targaryen.”_

_Tyrion felt his heart sink. “Is there any way we can prevent them from fighting for him and get them to fight for us?”_

_Varys sighed “There has been no solution that I can think of my lord. Besides the Valemen do not regard House Lannister with much fondness, especially after that little episode where you were accused with Lord Jon Arryn’s murder.”_

_“Which I had nothing to do with!” Tyrion protested._

_Varys merely shrugged and said “I do not doubt you my lord, but before I leave you, you might wish to take it into consideration that Littlefinger grew up alongside Lady Lysa, perhaps he could be used to bring the Vale to heel, or perhaps he is the one is responsible for this mess.”_

_With that Varys walked away and left Tyrion with dark thoughts._

_\---------------------------_

**Jon Connington**

Aegon was deeply unwell. He had caught the blue fever whilst they had been sailing across the little Rhoyne and was now in the last stages of his young life. Jon could not help but feel like he had failed.

He had failed the father by not crushing Robert’s forces at the Battle of the Bells, and so his silver prince had been cut down at the Trident. He had been younger then with foolish ideas of chivalry and glory in his head and it had cost them so many lives, he was haunted still by the tolling of the bells that rung in the Stoney Sept that day.

And now he had failed the son. Aegon had gone for a swim when they had been docked in a nice patch of water, but he had gone unaccompanied and had come back running a fever which Haldon had later said was the blue fever and of course no one had ever recovered from the blue fever. Jon had spent the past three weeks that Aegon had been bed ridden cursing himself and his stupidity, he was supposed to have been older and wiser than he had been at the Stoney Sept, he should have known that letting Aegon go anywhere unaccompanied was a bad idea. They had had to rush back to Pentos three weeks ago back to the cheesemonger’s house to have Aegon treated properly, but Aegon’s condition had gotten so much worse. Jon knew that despite his best efforts to pretend otherwise the boy was going to die and it was his entire fault. He had failed the son just as he had failed the father.

He turned round when he heard the door open, and found fehe looking at Septa Lemore, in another life they had both been friends with the prince and princess, had run in the same circles as the popular nobles, had both had bright and promising futures. But then life had come in and intervened through that blasted tourney and the Stark girl, and turned their lives upside down and now here they were on the other side of the world waiting for the news that would leave them with no cause nor purpose once more.

He dreaded the answer to the question that he was about to ask but he needed to know. “How is he?”

Septa Lemore’s facade broke and she was Ashara Dayne once more, the lady who had enchanted and captured so many young men’s hearts, but had her heart captured by the stark girl’s eldest brother, and had borne him a stillborn girl after all. She spoke in a shaky voice as tears ran down her face “It’s over Jon. He closed his eyes and his breathing has stopped its over.”

Even though that was what he had expected Jon still felt his world shatter, just as it had when he had learnt of Rhaegar’s death on the Trident. He turned round and faced the city and tried to hide the tears that were trying to fall down his face. He did not hear the cheesemonger enter the balcony but he did hear what he said “All is not lost my friends. Prince Rhaegar did have one more son after all.”

\---------------

**Catelyn**

_“My lady,” Hall Mollen called. Two riders had emerged from the tidy little camp beneath the castle, and were coming toward them at a slow walk. “That will be Lord Stannis.”_

_“No doubt.” Catelyn watched them come. Stannis it must be, yet that is not the Baratheon Banner. It was bright yellow, not the rich gold of Renly’s standards and the device it bore was red, though she could not make out its shape._

_Renly would be the last to arrive. He had told her as much when she set out. He did not propose to mount his horse until he saw his brother well on his way. The first to arrive must wait on the other, and Renly would do not waiting. It is a sort of game kings play, she told herself. Nor is Renly a true king, though so why he played it she knew not, perhaps it was the Tyrell’s influence._

_As he neared she saw that Stannis wore a crown of red and gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. His belt was studded with garnets and yellow topaz, and a great square cut ruby was set in the hilt of the sword he wore. Otherwise his dress was plain: studded leather jerkin over the quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches of brown roughspun. The device on his sun yellow banner showed a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire. The crowned stag was there, yes.... shrunken and enclosed within the heart. Even more curious was his standard bearer- a woman, garbed all in reds, face shadowed within the deep hood of her scarlet cloak. A red priestess, Catelyn thought wondering. The sect was numerous and powerful in the Free Cities and the distant east, but there were few in the seven kingdoms._

_“Lady Stark.” Stannis Baratheon said with chill courtesy as he reined up._

_“Lord Stannis,” she returned._

_“I had not thought to find you at Storm’s End.”_

_“I had not thought to be here.”_

_He regarded her uncomfortably, “I am sorry for your lord’s death, though Eddard Stark was never a friend to me.”_

_“He was never your enemy, my lord. When the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne held you prisoner in that castle starving it was Eddard Stark who broke that siege.”_

_“At my brother’s command, not for love of me,” Stannis answered._

_Catelyn was beginning to tire of Stannis’s words and so asked him “Why are you here my lord? Why have you not replied to my nephew’s raven? Why are you fighting your brother and not helping rid the land of the Lannisters once and for all?”_

_Before Stannis could answer his standard bearer said “Because King Stannis is the rightful king of the seven kingdoms. He is the Lord’s chosen one, and your nephew is but a boy and an usurper besides.”_

_Catelyn saw Stannis bristle at the woman’s words and suspected that it was more at her urging that he was here, she tried to seize on that by saying “My lord, you are known to be an honourable and dutiful man. This is not like you. If you and your brother could put aside your quarrel and recognise my nephew as the rightful king of the seven kingdoms as heir to Rhaegar Targaryen, then we could combine our forces together to rid ourselves of the Lannisters.”_

_Stannis looked uncomfortable but once again before he could answer the red woman spoke “How do we know that your nephew is who he claims to be? The word of Eddard Stark a traitor who said those words with a sword over his head. The word of a man who kept this secret of his from his best friend for nigh on fourteen years? How are we to believe that this is the truth?”_

_Before Catelyn could reply, Lord Dustin who had been sent as part of her escort spoke up and said “Because I was there the day Lord Eddard rode to the Tower of Joy to get his sister. I fought alongside him as we battled three of the finest Kingsguard to have ever lived. I was there when Lord Eddard came out of the Tower holding his nephew his grace King Jon, I was there when he told us the truth of what had happened between his sister and Prince Rhaegar how they ran away together and how they married in sight of the old gods. That my lady is your proof.”_

_Stannis looked increasingly uncomfortable, and seemed to be itching to say something but before he could Renly rode up and began to mock Stannis, his red lady and his sigil. The icing on the cake was when he said to Stannis as part of his terms “I propose that you dismount, bend your knee and swear me allegiance.”_

_Stannis choked back rage. “That you shall never have.”_

_“You served Robert, why not me?”_

_“Robert was my elder brother. You are the younger.”_

_“Younger, bolder and far more comely...”_

_“...and a thief and a usurper besides.”_

_“The Targaryens called Robert usurper. He seemed able to bear the shame. So shall I.”_

_Catelyn had had enough. “Enough of this senseless bickering. You have both heard the truth of my nephew his grace King Jon’s parentage from myself and from Lord Dustin. You are both usurpers if you try to continue to pursue a claim to the throne. Would it not be better for us to join together and crush the Lannisters and then march on King’s Landing?”_

_Both men were silent for a moment before Stannis looked at Renly and said “You have till dawn to reconsider your position. If you do not bend, we shall come to war and I shall destroy you.” He turned his horse round and galloped back to his tent._

_The red woman looked at them all before looking at Renly and saying “Look to your sins Lord Renly.” Before she too rode on._

_Renly’s camp after the meeting was one of suspense and anticipation as all the men prepared for the upcoming battle. Lord Tarly urged Renly to attack at night to route Stannis and take him by surprise, throughout all the urgings of his lords Renly merely smiled and nodded and said not a word in agreement. Catelyn could not help but feel that something was terribly amiss here, the men were too happy for the battle. Stannis was no green boy and that red lady had had a strange aura around her that reeked of magic._

_Her suspicions it seemed were confirmed when after coming back from her prayers at a sept in the nearby village she went to speak with Renly and whilst exchanging words with him, when she saw what she thought looked like a thin outline of Stannis’s shadow enter the tent and move toward Renly but before she could say anything, Renly had fallen to the floor gasping for air with blood pouring out of his throat._

_Ser Robar Royce and Ser Emmon Cuy entered the tent at Brienne’s cries and looked at their King’s lifeless body then at Brienne covered in Renly’s blood and drew their swords Ser Emmon advanced on Brienne and was ruthlessly cut to pieces by Brienne, Ser Robar looked at her hesitatingly then when Catelyn swore on her honour as a Stark that Brienne had not killed Renly he promised to hold off the others._

_Catelyn had to drag Brienne towards were her men were._

_Ser Wendel Manderly was all in a lather to know what had happened “My lady the camp has gone mad.” He blurted out “Lord Renly is he-“ he stopped suddenly staring at Brienne and the blood that drenched her._

_“Dead but not by our hands.”_

_“The battle-“ Hal Mollen began._

_“There will be no battle.” Catelyn mounted and her escort formed up about her, with Ser Wendel to her left and Ser Perwyn in the white of the Kingsguard on her right. “Brienne we brought mounts enough for twice our number. Choose one and come with us.”_

_“I have my own horse my lady. And my armour-“_

_“Leave them. We must be well away before they think to look for us. We were both with the king when he was killed. That will not be forgotten.” Wordless Brienne turned and did as she was bid. “Ride,” Catelyn commanded her escort when they were all a horse. “If any man tries to stop us cut him down.”_

_As the long fingers of dawn fanned across the fields colour was returning to the world. Where grey men had sat grey horses armed with shadow spears, the points of then thousand lances now glinted silverly cold, and on the myriad flapping banners Catelyn saw the blush of red and pink and orange, the richness of blues and browns, the blues and browns, the blaze of gold and yellow. All the power of Storm’s End and Highgarden the power that had been Renly’s an hour ago, where did they belong now. She wondered._

_She remembered the look in the red lady’s eyes when she had spoke to Renly before riding away and shivered. There was one king less in the land._

_\---------------_

**AREO.**

He was sworn to protect and obey, had been since he was little more than a lad. He was sworn to observe and comment when asked and so he observed as Prince Doran met with his brother Prince Oberyn and Lord Yronwood in the Water Gardens one hot day whilst the sounds of children’s laughter could be heard.

Prince Doran sighed and began to speak “Lord Renly is dead. Stannis Baratheon will try and take his men and storm King’s Landing.”

Prince Oberyn said nothing but Lord Yronwood laughed “So honour bound Stannis is a kinslayer now eh. Some king he will make.”

Prince Doran did not deign to reply to that comment and said “I have agreed to let my son Prince Trystane marry Princess Myrcella Baratheon, questions of her parentage withstanding.”

Once again Prince Oberyn said nothing, nor did Lord Yronwood this time.

Prince Doran continued “The Iron Throne think they have bought our loyalty with this marriage. Renly assumed we would join him for revenge against the Lannisters for Elia and her children. Stannis will assume we will join him as the rightful king though he is not. We will do none of these things. King Jon Targaryen is the king we shall support, had Rhaenys and Aegon lived he would have been their brother. Elia told me once before she died that she often wondered what life would be like with the Stark girl once Rhaegar and the girl came home. King Jon has not made promises to us regarding vengeance, but he does not need to. He knows we will march for a Targaryen for our vengeance. Lord Yronwood I have assembled a host of 10,000 men under the command of Ser Ryon Allyrion. I want you to muster another 10,000 men and bring them through the Prince’s Pass, you are to declare you are fed up with my leadership and are rebelling. I shall tell Ser Ryon to let you through. Once through you are to harass the reachmen still in the reach and then march to join King Jon’s host in the Riverlands. Oberyn you shall take up the seat on the small council offered by Lord Tyrion and find out what you can about the situation there and who truly rules. And when the time is right, we shall destroy House Lannister from within. Is that understood?”

Areo heard both men answer in the affirmative then heard Prince Doran say “Good. Leave me now the both of you. Get to work and make sure no one else knows of our plans.”

 

 

 


	9. Keep Your Friends Close

**Jon**

They had been on the march toward the Westerlands for a few days when Ghost and Greywind had found a narrow path that circumvented round the Golden Tooth Fortress, and allowed them slightly easier passage into the Westerlands, as well as giving them a clearer indication of where Stafford Lannister had kept his army stationed- Oxcross. Jon thought it odd that the man being a Lannister had not thought to post outriders and scouts out around the surrounding area to warn him of any approaching hosts, and when he had brought this up with Ser Barristan the old knight had said that Ser Stafford was a old and feeble man who had only been allowed to hold the Lannister name because of the love Tywin’s wife Joanna had borne him as her brother. Otherwise Ser Barristan had said Tywin Lannister would have removed him from the family tree in a heartbeat.

Though of course Ser Barristan did warn Jon against being too over confident and suggested that perhaps they had best wait and see if Ser Stafford realised the force of men that was at his doorstep. As it turned out the man did not, and he sent neither scouts nor outriders during the day that Jon and his men spent going over their battle preparations, so that when night finally fell, Jon said his farewells to Robb and Theon who were to be leading the Vanguard, and with Ser Barristan walking a few paces behind him made his way back to his tent to get into his armour.

Once he had worn his dark blue armour and put on his wolf’s head helm and entrusted Serrax to one of the helpers near his tent he mounted his horse and rode on to where Ser Barristan and Lord Karstark waited for him. Moving his horse in between the two of them Jon lifted the lid of his helm and spoke “It is a clear night tonight. A good sign from the gods. This should allow us to see more easily.”

To which Ser Barristan replied “Aye and keep our approach more hidden due to the presence of crickets and such.”

Lord Karstark said nothing; the man had not been keeping very quiet as of late, not saying much in council sessions nor was he the talkative Lord who had laughed alongside Jon on their march south those many years ago. Jon had asked Torrhen about it, and his friend had said that Lord Rickard had taken the death of his son Eddard very, very hard and was also sick with worry about how safe Harrion could truly be. Jon could sympathise with Lord Rickard for he constantly worried for Robb’s safety during battle and also worried about how safe and secure Arya and their mother were also, he also worried consciously for Sansa and ached to see her again, and to hold her in his arms and never let her go.

He was brought out of his musings when he heard the sound of a horn being blown. Rickard Karstark perked up at the sound of the horn and said “That is Lord Umber’s horn Your Grace, the attack has begun.”

Jon nodded and said “Sound you horn then Lord Karstark and let us begin.”

Lord Karstark sounded his horn and Ghost answered with a chilling howl, which further afield was answered by Robb’s direwolf Greywind. Jon pulled down the lid on his helm, and drew his sword, he rode forward and in commanding a voice as he could muster said “Men of the North, before us stand Lannisters. The Lions who would have us bend to their bastard King. We shall defeat them and take their gold and land. Let us show them that winter has come for them.” Jon heard the answering roar of the soldiers behind him and then spurred on his horse and charged forward into the brewing melee, Ser Barristan never far behind him.

The main force of the Northern army was commanded by Jon and it smashed into the right flank of the host commanded by Stafford Lannister. Jon immediately began swinging his sword left and right, bringing down any soldier that wore the crimson red of the Lannisters as well as any man that bore the sigil of a Lannister Bannerman he recognised. He continued swinging his sword cleaving a bloody path in front of himself, whilst to his side Ser Barristan and Torrhen did the same, through his connection to Ghost he felt and saw his direwolf rip and tear the throats out of many a man. Soon Jon found himself face to face with a man bearing the hooded man on a field of Grey of House Banefort. The man snarled at Jon and drew his sword and swung at him. Jon managed to duck in time to avoid the blow, and managed to swing his own sword so that it dented the man’s chest plate. The man drew his horse back and then swung again this time striking Jon’s shield. Jon retaliated and swung his sword several times, sometimes striking the man’s shield his sword or his armour. The Banefort man also swung his sword several times striking Jon’s shield, his helm or armour, so that both Jon and the Banefort man were both covered with dents and scratches that oozed crimson blood onto their armour and swords.

The man though was beginning to tire and so Jon retreated ever so slightly and feinted to his right hoping to draw the man into an attack that would leave his neck open, the man fell for the ploy and swung wildly at Jon, allowing Jon the chance to lift his shield to block the man’s sword and then whilst the man raised his sword in attempt of another attack Jon moved to the left and swung out at the man’s exposed neck striking true and drawing blood. Jon watched rooted to the spot as the Banefort man fell down off his horse bleeding to his death on the ground.

Jon rode on continuing to slash and hack at any man that stood in his way so that when he came face to face with Lord Roland Crakehall his sword was stained red with blood. Both men were tired beyond the point of exhaustion yet none the less moved their horses round in a circle until Lord Roland swung first, his sword screaming against Jon’s shield, denting it slightly. Jon replied by swinging at Lord Roland only find his sword connect with the man’s sword, so that steel screeched on steel. Their dance continued like this for what seemed like hours, days even but really only lasted a matter of moments. One man would swing the other would either block with sword or shield or would have his armour dented. This continued until both men looked beaten and black and blue with bruises, Jon could feel his bones beginning to ache and felt tiredness making his movements lax and slow, but so too were they making Lord Roland’s. Jon lurched forward sword in hand horse pushed in front of Lord Roland’s and before he knew what he was doing Jon had grabbed hold of the Lord’s horse and had swung his sword right down the middle of a stunned Lord Crakehall who soon was in two halves.

 

Jon stood there for a moment merely looking at Lord Roland’s horse not hearing the cheering of men or how they cried his and Robb’s names in triumph. It was not until Ser Barristan rode up to him and lightly touched him on the shoulder that Jon was broken out of his stupor. Turning round to look at his Lord Commander Jon asked “Have we won ser?”

Ser Barristan nodded and then said “Yes Your Grace. The Lannister host has been severly beaten. Ser Stafford was killed by Lord Karstark.”

Jon nodded then said “Is Robb okay? Torrhen?”

Barristan did not speak for a moment before saying “Lord Stark is well your grace as is Lord Torrhen, both did them proud today. Lord Stark waits for you in your tent.”

Jon nodded and followed Barristan back to the clearing where their campsite was all the while merely hearing but not truly hearing as the men he had fought alongside cheered his name and bent their knees and bowed their heads for the man they called the White Dragon King.

Jon dismounted and walked into his tent followed by Ser Barristan, to find Robb and Theon sitting in two chairs beside the fire, both were in normal clothes – a tunic and some breeches- and were sipping on some wine by the smell of it.

“Gods you look a state Jon,” He heard Robb say.

Theon smirked and said “Aye that you do Snow. We need to find you a whore to get that bloody glum look of your face eh. Come on Your Grace smile some more why don’t you? We smashed yet another Lannister host, and the remenants have ran back with their tails between their legs to Lannisport.”

Jon said nothing but sat down in one of the chairs and accepted a cup of wine from Robb. He drank deeply then put the cup down and said “ What were our losses Robb?”

Robb looked at a piece of parchment then said “At last count 300 Your Grace. The night time attack caught them by surprise once again. So our losses were minimal whilst theirs were large. Though Ser Stevron did receive quite a fatal blow to the chest during the fighting and is being treated by one of the camp maester’s now. So what do you plan to do next Your Grace?”

Jon took another sip of his wine before saying “We spend a day here no more, then at first light we ride for Ashemark. We take that keep and we are near to the gold mines. Go the both of you, go now and rest.”

As it turned out the day they were due to march for Ashemark was the day Ser Stevron Frey heir to the Twins died from his wounds. Robb came and found him before he broke his fast to tell him the news. So of course Jon had to put of marching for another day as they allowed the Freys in their army to grieve and light their former future Lord’s funeral pyre. Ser Stevron’s drunkard son Ser Ryman was now heir to the Crossing and as such began to try and get himself ingrained into Jon’s conscience or perhaps he merely was trying to make up for calling Jon a low born no good bastard as they had marched for the Whispering Wood.

Jon did not know nor did he particularly care, all he truly cared about was taking Ashemark as bloodlessly as possible. That want turned out be nothing more than a dream, though lightly garrisoned with some 400 men, the men there commanded by the old but stubborn Lord Damon Marbrand put up a bloody fight, right until the last man did they fight and Jon sword was once more bathed red as were the keep’s walls. Once Lord Damon was killed by Jon’s own hand, the remaining men at the keep surrendered and Jon made use of the Lord’s Solar to call a council of his lords.

When the council met his lords were all still caked in dirt and blood from the fight and were all weary and tired. A few days rest Jon knew would do them well but they did not have that much time, for by the time word reached Riverrun of the fall of Ashemark, Tywin Lannister would also surely know and would be getting ready to march. By that point Jon hoped to be marching on Casterly Rock hopefully with the help of the Iron Fleet.

Jon spoke first calling for wine and food then congratulating his lords on a hard fought battle then asking “What were our losses my lords?”

Lord Umber spoke first “I lost 50 men, Your Grace including my son Dorren to an arrow to the heart.”

Lord Karstark spoke next “I lost 50 men also Your Grace. Torrhen was injured during the fighting but the maester says he should recover.”

Robb then spoke “I lost roughly 50 men also Your Grace.”

Jon nodded and then said “So we lost 150 men roughly in total. That is not so bad though I would have preferred a bloodless conflict. It appears these Westerlanders are either to stubborn or stupid to know when is the right time to fight and when is the right time to peacefully surrender.”

There was some chuckling at that, once it had died down Jon spoke again “Now we have crushed one Lannister host and have taken one keep. That is not enough. We must drain the Westerlands of their supplies and bring them back to Riverrun if we are to force Tywin Lannister’s hands. That is why Lord Stark and myself shall march on the Crag with roughly 1000 men. Lords Karstark and Glover I wish for you to go raiding along the coast. Lady Mormont I wish for you to capture any and all livestock in the area and drive it toward the Riverlands. Lord Umber I want you to go raiding the gold mines around Castamere, Nunn’s Deep and Pendric Hills and take your findings to Riverrun. We disperse at first light tomorrow.”

In voice they all answered “Yes Your Grace. It shall be done.”

As the Lords and lady, except Robb left the Lord’s solar, Theon entered clutching a letter and looking slightly scared. That in itself was enough to make Jon feel worried, Theon never openly showed any emotion nearing fear, so the fact that his fear was so plain to see now was a major concern.

“What is it Theon, what’s in the letter?” Robb asked.

Theon said nothing; he only gave the letter to Jon and then retreated to stand next to the door. Curious as to why Theon was so silent Jon looked at Robb who merely shrugged and pointed to the letter. Jon opened it and read it and what he read worried and deeply troubled him.

_Boy,_

_Yes that is right I called you boy._

_Do not think that just because you wear a crown and bear the name of dragons that you can command me nor make requests of me. I am Balon Greyjoy and I was reaving and taking Salt Wives when you were just a speck in the sky._

_Your envoy the Mallister Lord, I have locked up. He will continue to remain imprisoned until you return what your uncle took from me. You want my alliance send me back Theon Greyjoy or pay the iron price._

_What is dead may never die._

Jon stopped reading the letter and passed it onto Robb and then looked at Theon. Now what was he supposed to do?

\------------------

**Varys**

_“It would appear that Lord Renly was murdered most fearfully in the midst of his army. His throat was opened from ear to ear by a blade that passed through steel and bone as if they were soft cheese.” Varys said as he stood over the brazier._

_“Murdered by whose hand?” Queen Cersei demanded._

_“Have you ever considered that too many answers are the same as no answer at all? My informers are not always as highly placed as we might like. When a king dies, fancies sprout like mushrooms in the dark. A groom says that Renly was slain by a knight of his own Rainbow Guard. A washerwoman claims Stannis stole through the heart of his brother’s army with his magic sword. Several men at arms believe a woman did the fell deed, but cannot agree which woman. A maid that Renly spurned claims one. A camp follower brough into serve his pleasure on the eve of battle says a second. The third ventures that it might have been the Lady Catelyn Stark.”_

_The Queen was not pleased. “Must you waste our time with every rumour fools care to tell?”_

_“You pay me well for these rumours, my gracious Queen.”_

_“We pay you for the truth, Lord Varys. Remember that, or this small council may grow smaller still.”_

_Varys tittered nervously. “You and your noble brother will leave His Grace with no council at all if you continue.”_

_“I dare say the realm could survive a few less councillors.” Said Littlefinger with a smile._

_Of course you would thought Varys, though when I am done you will begging for much more than your job. Aloud he only said “ Dear, dear Petyr are you not concerned that yours might be the next name on the Hand’s little list?”_

_“Before you Varys? I should never dream of it.”_

_“Mayhaps we will be brothers on the Wall together you and I.” Varys giggled again._

_“Sooner than you like if the next words out of your mouth are not something useful eunuch.” Cersei said._

_“Might be this some ruse?” Littlefinger asked._

_“If so, it is a ruse of surpassing cleverness. It has certainly hoodwinked me.” Varys said._

_Varys could tell Lord Tyrion was getting impatient and so went on “The greater part of Renly’s foot remains at Bitterbridge. Most of the Lords who rode with Lord Renly to Storm’s End have gone over banner and blade to Stannis.”_

_“Led by the Florents I wager.” Littlefinger said._

_Varys nodded “Many led by Lord Alester Florent.”_

_“Many, not all?” Asked Lord Tyrion._

_“Not all,” agreed Varys “Not Loras Tyrell, nor Randyll Tarly, nor Mathis Rowan. And Storm’s End itself has not yet yielded. Ser Loras is likely making for Bitterbridge, his sister is there, as well as a great many soldiers who suddenly find themselves kingless.”_

_Lord Tyrion then said something that made Varys inwardly groan “Joffrey shall marry Margaery Tyrell. Mace Tyrell has always wanted his daughter to be queen and a grandson on the throne. Give him Joff’s hand and Highgarden and their forces are as good as ours as is the war.”_

_Cersei of course protested “Joffrey is betrothed to Sansa Stark.”_

_“Betrothals can be set aside,” Lord Tyrion said dismissively. “Besides it would be better were Joff not married to a traitors daughter or sister.”_

_Varys could have sung to the gods up high when he saw Cersei nod her approval “Very well then but it’s your neck on the line if Joff doesn’t like her.”_

_And with that the council meeting was called to a close._

_Over the next few days Varys continued to gather information about the movements of the Tyrell host and Littlefinger’s progress toward their camp. When he received word that Littlefinger was no more than a day’s ride from Bitterbridge, he sent word to one of his little birds in the Tyrell host. It was imperative that Lord Tarly be away from Bitterbridge when Littlefinger arrived._

_Varys also continued to play his part in making Lord Tyrion believe that he was a friend to him. Showing him ways in which to visit Shae undetected, and feeding him the choicest bits of gossip that his little birds had told him, without giving away all the juicy details. He also continued to keep an eye on what Stannis Baratheon and his red woman were doing. They had yet to sail from Storm’s End and whether or not the red woman would be with Stannis when the man attacked King’s Landing remained to be see. Varys deeply hoped that she would not be, for if his plan was to work she would need to be on Dragonstone and dead._

_When news came of Ser Cortnay Penrose’s death through mysterious circumstances Varys began to fear, if this Red Woman had Stannis Baratheon wrapped around her little finger enough to convince him to allow her to shadow assassinate Ser Penrose, there was no telling what she might convince Stannis was necessary to remove King Jon from the game. No Varys needed her gone and soon._

_As the royal party including the Lady Sansa went off to the docks to see off Princess Myrcella on her voyage to Dorne, Varys paid two visits to old friends. One was a trained killer whom he had known since his days in Lys and Pentos as they walked the streets of Steel Varys whispered the name of the red woman to the man and said “She must not be alive when the King makes his move on the capital.” The man nodded and went on his way._

_Varys next paid a visit the woman Lord Tyrion thought himself in love with. Shae had been a camp follower whose mother Varys had known both in Pentos and in King’s Landing. When he knocked on the door she opened the door and allowed him without complaint._

_“My lady. I trust all is to your liking?” Varys asked._

_“Yes my lord, it is. I thank you for providing me with such hospitality.”_

_“No need to thank me, it was the least I could do. I do have one small favour to ask of you.”_

_Shae looked curious, “Oh and what is that my lord?”_

_Varys sighed deeply then said “Lord Tyrion is going to ask me where or how to get you closer to the castle so he can visit you without suspicion. I am going to suggest that you become Lady Sansa’s maid. When he asks you, accept.”_

_“And why should I?” Shae asked._

_Varys laughed then, not his usual high pitched giggle, but a deeper manlier sounding laugh. “Oh my sweet Shae. You know why. Stannis Baratheon is but a fortnight away from attacking the city and I mean to see Sansa Stark safely away and ensconced in Riverrun when he attacks. I need you to communicate with Sansa in such a way that she knows she can trust you and that the person who left that note in her pocket many days ago, is helping her.”_

_Shae nodded her approval._

_Varys went on “Good. Tyrion shall ask you tonight, accept and tomorrow you will meet Lady Sansa. I shall leave a note telling her a white dove is in the godswood, you shall encourage her to go. And there she shall be seen for a week, and then you shall tell her that the black wolf sails at midnight and urge her to go to the godswood to pray. Someone we both know shall be waiting there. Is that understood?”_

_Shae grinned and said “Yes my lord.”_

_Varys smiled then and said in his deep voice “Good, now I shall take my leave of you. I have a Queen to plot against.”_

_\---------------_

**Catelyn**

She had returned to Riverrun after her failed mission to get the Baratheon brothers to bend the knee to Jon, with Brienne at her side to find Edmure had called the banners. When she had spoken with him after first talking to Arya and finding out how she had been, he had told her that his scouts had reported seeing Tywin Lannister’s host marching from Harrenhal, and coming west. News of Jon’s victories had been told to her by both Martyn Rivers and Arya, he was closing in on Casterly Rock and clearly Tywin Lannister meant not to allow him to take the Rock without a fight.

Edmure had told her before mounting his horse and marching of with his men, that he meant to make father proud and make Jon trust him, as he trusted Robb and their uncle. Catelyn had told Edmure that their father had always been proud of him, but she hadn’t the heart to tell him that Jon trusted Robb because they were the each other’s balancing act, and that anyone who tried to come between their understanding would not fare well. Instead she had merely kissed his cheek and bid him good luck and so far had spent most of the day and night waiting for Edmure to return or for any news to reach them, just as she had waited first for her father, then Brandon Stark and then Ned.

She had just put Arya to sleep after reading to her, when Maester Vyman came up to her, by his heavy breathing she could tell that he had either been walking incredibly quickly or he had run here to find her. “What is Maester Vyman? Has something happened to my father?  Is he well?”

Maester Vyman took some time to catch his breath before he said “Your father is fine my lady. He sleeps. No I have come to give you news of the battle.”

Catelyn felt butterflies floating round in her stomach “Go on.” She urged Vyman.

“A Lannister party came close to the western bank of the Red Fork but were thrown back by Lord Blackwood and were crushed by Lord Bracken’s pincer movement. Another Lannister party was crushed between Lord Vance’s forces of men.” Vyman said.

“That is good, what word of Edmure though Maester?” Catelyn asked.

“As of yet there has been no word from Lord Edmure though he is leading the reserve so whether or not he shall be engaged is an entirely different matter.” Vyman replied.

“Okay, Maester Vyman I wish to speak with Ser Cleos, but I want him well into his cups when I do speak with him.” Catelyn said, having decided whilst waiting for news that she would speak with the man who had indirectly tried to help free the Kingslayer.

If Maester Vyman thought her request odd he made no mention of it when he nodded and made way to Cleos Frey’s chambers to tell the man. When Catelyn entered the man’s rooms she was glad to see him unsteady on his feet as he got to one knee and slurred out an apology about how he did not know about the rescue attempt until it had happened. Catelyn was not in the mood to listen to a drunken Frey and so she cut him off. “I am not here to speak with you about the failed attempt to free the Kingslayer Ser Cleos. No I am told you brought terms from Tyrion Lannister. I would hear them.”

Ser Cleos swallowed nervously before saying “Okay my lady, but I do not think that you or his grace will like them.” Once he had finished speaking, Catelyn agreed with him. Those terms were not terms at all but once again displayed Lannister arrogance. The Lannisters were losing the war in the Riverlands and their home was being destroyed in the Westerlands and yet they still thought it wise to threaten the King. Clearly they had not heard of Jon’s dragon.

Instead of saying as much to Ser Cleos Catelyn said “Did you see my girls? Are they treated well?”

Ser Cleos hesitated “I......yes, they seemed....”

He is fumbling for a lie, Catelyn thought; he knows not that Arya is here in Riverrun. Shall I tell him to put him out of his misery or not? Instead she said “Ser Cleos, your forfeited the protection of your peace banner when your men played us false. Lie to me, and you’ll hang from the walls beside them. Believe that. I shall ask you once more- did you see my daughters?” She was careful to emphasise the word daughters so as not to arouse suspicion from Ser Cleos and to put pressure on him.

His brow was damp with sweat. “I saw the Lady Sansa at the court, the day Tyrion told me his terms. She looked most beautiful, my lady. Perhaps a, a bit wan.  Drawn as it were.”

Catelyn said nothing then got up to leave saying as she got to the doorway “Thank you for letting me know Ser Cleos. I shall let you rest now.”

As she left Ser Cleos’ room she found Maester Vyman standing outside as well, when she looked at him questioningly he said “Lord Edmure has returned my lady. He requested your presence in your Lord Father’s solar.”

Catelyn nodded her thanks and made her way over to her father’s solar wondering what could have been so urgent that Edmure would summon her now and not in the morning. As she entered the room she found Edmure sitting in a chair beside a roaring fire, he was still in his armour caked in blood and mud. He turned round at the sound of the door closing behind her and whispered “Cat.”

Catelyn replied “You asked and I have come. Why did you wish to see me Edmure?”

Edmure remained silent for a moment then said “We won Cat, we smashed the Lannister host to bits, not one of their men lived.”

Catelyn knew not to say, but Edmure continued “Strange thing was though Cat, Lord Tywin was amongst his men. In fact the host we fought was not even his entire host. No it was only 6,000 of his 20,000 men commanded by some Crakehall or Brax.”

Catelyn felt dread begin to pool in her stomach. “What do you mean Edmure? Where was Lord Tywin and the rest of his host if not fighting here?”

_Edmure gave a sad laugh and said “Gone. The one man who we let live for long enough to tell us where he was told us that when they were still at Harrenhal, Lord Tywin received two riders from Bitterbridge, Lord Rowan and Lord Rowan’s son. They came to tell Lord Tywin that the Tyrells were camped close to the Kingswood and that Stannis was a day’s march from King’s Landing. Lord Tywin immediately gathered 14,000 men left some 6000 behind in Harrenhal and rode with Lord Rowan and his son, to where the Tyrells were camped and joined with them. Cat the Lannisters are allied with the Tyrells now  
_

_\--------------_

\----------------

**Randyll**

“March and lay siege to Riverrun Randyll. We must prove our loyalty to the Lannisters now that Renly is dead.” Mace Tyrell had told him.

Randyll Tarly ever the dutiful vassal had nodded his head and agreed and so had led 20,000 reachmen including his son and heir Dickon as they marched north to lay “siege” to Riverrun. Along the way though Randyll had begun having second thoughts about laying siege to Riverrun. He began to question why he always followed what Mace Tyrell, the fat fool, always told him to do. He was the one who had won the Battle of Ashford during Robert’s Rebellion whilst Mace Tyrell had dithered and arrived when Robert’s forces had scattered, and yet the man still claimed credit for the battle. Throughout his time as Lord, Mace Tyrell had continually blundered from one misstep to another, the only reason House Tyrell had not fallen into disrepute amongst the Reacher Lords was because of Olenna Tyrell and Willas Tyrell, Mace’s mother and son respectively. Both of those two Tyrells had more political and mental acumen then Mace had brain cells. They had kept House Tyrell and the Reach prosperous throughout the years since the Rebellion, and yet Mace took the credit.

Randyll Tarly had had enough of it, he wanted some recognition he wanted Dickon to inherit a house that was respected not just for its martial prowess but because they were loyal. The Targaryens had made House Tyrell lords when they had just been stewards previously, and Mace seemed to have forgotten that in his bid to get his daughter seated on the Iron Throne next to Joffrey Baratheon. Randyll knew however, that if the Lannisters lost this war then Mace would try and switch sides to the one that gave him the most benefit, and the way things were looking now it appeared that that would be the Targaryen boy, the last living son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Randyll wanted to make sure that he was the one who proved his loyalty to the Targaryens once more and wished for his son to benefit from him doing so.

It was much to his surprise thought that just as Randyll and his men got to the Mummer’s Ford they found tents camped around the ford bearing various sigils but the most prominent one was the black portcullis over sand of House Yronwood, Randyll had heard that the Yronwoods had raised their banners and declared rebellion against House Martell and yet he was surprised to see hidden deep within the cluster of tents, one of the tents still flew the sun and spear of House Martell.

Randyll called a halt to his party and dismounted from his horse ignoring his son’s questioning calls. As he advanced into the entrance of the Dornish campsite he found Lord Anders Yronwood waiting for him with a sly grin on his face.

“Ah Lord Tarly, what a lovely surprise. I was not expecting you for a few days yet. What brings you to this side of Westeros?” Yronwood asked.

Lord Tarly tried keeping his voice neutral as he said “I have come with my men to lay siege to Riverrun. And yourself Yronwood why are you here? I thought Dorne had married into the Iron Throne, and that you had rebelled and yet I spy the Sun and Spear of House Martell.”

To his credit Yronwood’s smile never fell from his face as he spoke “Ah ever observant I see Lord Tarly. I must admit I was surprised to learn that Lord Tyrell wished to fight for Joffrey when there is a Targaryen claimant here in Westeros. Though that is neither here nor there. As to why I am here as you say in rebellion against House Martell, I have come to give my allegiance and that of my men to King Jon Targaryen.”

“Very well then. Shall we march together then?” Lord Tarly asked.

“Why of course my lord of Tarly. How else where we to go?” Lord Yronwood asked laughing.

As Randyll made his way back toward where his men where and mounted his horse Dickon stopped next to him and asked him “What are you doing father?”

Randyll merely looked at Dickon and said “Renewing an age old vow son.”

And with that he said no more as he rode on and followed Lord Yronwood’s host to Riverrun. When the castle itself came into view Randyll felt like a little boy again, here he was about to do something for himself for the first time since he picked up a sword for the first time much to his own Lord father’s dismay. There flying high and proud on the walls of Riverrun, were the leaping trout of house Tully, and next to that was the grey direwolf of house Stark and above the two flags, was the banner that King Jon Targaryen had adopted as his own, the three headed red dragon of House Targaryen halved with the white direwolf on a grey field said to represent the king’s own direwolf named Ghost.

Randyll signalled for his men stop marching when he saw Lord Yronwood do the same and together the two men dismounted from their mounts and made their way to the gates of Riverrun where a sentinel halted them and demanded that they declared their intentions. Both men looked at each other and then Randyll said “We have come to pledge ourselves and our men to the cause of his Grace King Jon Targaryen.” The sentinel said nothing for a moment then bid them declare themselves and they both gave their names and houses, there was silence for a moment before the gates opened to let them in. When they walked in Randyll found himself face to face with an old man who named himself Utherydes Wayn, who bid them follow him. Wayn led them to the Lord’s solar where he knocked and when bid enter announced Lord Tarly and Lord Yronwood who both then entered the room, to find themselves looking at a rather startled looking Edmure Tully and Lady Catelyn Stark.

Lord Edmure bid them sit and so they sat, whilst he called for refreshments for them, Lady Catelyn looked at them both intently before saying “Whilst it is a pleasure to see you both my lords I find myself a bit confused as to why you are here. We have heard how Prince Doran agreed to marry his son to Princess Myrcella Lord Yronwood, and my brother has told me that Lord Tyrell has aligned himself with the Lannisters Lord Tarly, so do forgive us with we are a tad suspicious of you both.”

Lord Yronwood smiled “It is good that you are suspicious my lady, I would be worried were you not. But surely you must know that Prince Doran would never willingly side himself with the Lannisters, that he has done so is more to do with the fact that he was left with no realistic option to visibly decline their offer when they offered him the chance of getting Princess Elia’s killer brought to justice. Though of course we all know that justice shall never come to be so long as there are Lannisters alive. No, Prince Doran has bid me to renew the vows Dorne once swore to the Targaryens when Prince Daeron married Princess Myriah. W have come to fight for his grace King Jon, and to fight for his right that the Lannisters took away.”

Randyll then spoke “Mace is a fat fool with no honour nor sense. He is ruled by ambition and that shall be his downfall. I have been his loyal servant for many a year, but my house served the Targaryens loyally for many a year as well. We came when the Blackfyres rebelled and when Robert rebelled we came also. I wish for my house to be remembered for its honour and duty. I have come with 20,000 men to fight for his grace King Jon. We shall not stop till the Lannisters are all dead and he sits the Iron Throne.”

 

 


	10. Under The Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa escapes during or just before the battle of blackwater :)

**Jon**

The Crag, the seat of the old House Westerling was more of a ruin than stronghold Jon thought as it came into his vision. They had ridden at first light that morning from Ashemark, and Jon intended to take the Crag with relatively little blood being shed, for from what his scouts had told him the seat was lightly held by a garrison of only fifty men led by one Ser Rolph Spicer. As they got near enough to see the castle walls from up close Jon sent a rider out to speak with the gateman, giving them the terms that Jon and Robb had decided to offer them in the event of a peaceful surrender

Jon heard the herald speak to the man on the gate “In the name of His Grace King Jon Targaryen first of his name, rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms I do offer you the chance to surrender. Lay down you weapons and open your gates and His Grace shall pardon you for your treason and give you the chance to redeem yourselves.”

There was silence for a moment before the gateman replied “Why should we bow to a bastard king? What proof does he have his parentage other than the words of a dead traitor?”

The herald looked at Jon, and Jon nodded and with his mind told Serrax his black dragon who was now the size of Ghost to fly, Serrax swooped down from the sky and unleashed a jet of fire above the Crag’s walls, the scared shouting of the men behind the walls could be heard from over the wall. The herald then turned back to speak with the gateman “There is your proof. His Grace has given you one last chance. Open your gates and surrender peacefully and you shall be spared.”

The gateman could be heard whispering fervently to someone out of Jon’s line of vision, but it was obvious that the two were arguing about what to do. It seemed that the gateman was urging the other man to open the gates and yet the other man stubbornly refused to do so. The gateman seemed resigned when he said “House Westerling does not acknowledge Jon Targaryen as its rightful king and instead sees him as an unlawful usurper to the true king, His Grace King Joffrey Baratheon. We shall never open our gates to the usurper nor his men.”

Jon sighed when he heard those words, turning to Robb he said “Tell Smalljon and Black Walder to scale the walls.” Robb gave the signal and Jon watched as two small specks on the horizon began scaling the broken walls of the Crag. Jon then turned to Theon and said “Get the ram ready. We shall break down their doors.” Theon began shouting for the men to bring the ram forward and Jon watched as some of the soldiers brought the ram forward huffing and panting all the while. Jon then turned to Robb again and asked “They are on the walls?”

Robb nodded and said “They are, Your Grace.”

“Good. Let us attack.” Jon said drawing his sword from its scabbard he yelled for the men to march, whilst Ghost and Greywind howled and Serrax loosed jets of black fire. Jon spurred his horse on grabbing hold of one of the parts of the ram and brought it crashing down onto the doors to the Crag feeling the impact shake his shoulders. The men of the Crag were not lax though after the third time of using the ram and doors were almost off their hinges they unleashed a storm of arrows, most of which managed to miss Jon, but he heard rather than saw the arrows that pierced Robb, and began to worry that Robb might not make it, shoving the ram against the door all the more harder Jon turned to see Theon with two arrows sticking out of his chest, blood oozing out in the gaps made to his armour.

He began to fear for the worst when he heard Robb grunt in pain once more, but just as he heard Robb grunt, the doors to the Crag were blown of their hinges, and Jon led the charge through into the Crag. Cutting down men left, right and centre until his sword was red with blood. He felt Ghost rip the throat out of any man who came too close to him and saw Serrax burn many a man alive.

Jon was soon engaged in a duel with a man he would later learn was Ser Rolph Spicer, Ser Barristan was engaged in a fight with another man bearing the arms of House Westerling as was Robb, of Theon Jon could see no sign of, he hoped the Ironborn was ok. His mind was brought back to present matters when Spicer swung at him, Jon managed to raise his sword up in defence in the nick of time, and the sound of steel screeching off of steel resounded around the courtyard of the keep. Both men broke apart and then continued their dance, Jon though it soon became apparent was the more skilled of the two swordsmen and soon had beaten Ser Rolph black and blue, the man was bleeding from cuts to his eyes, his arms, his shoulders and his chest. His armour was dented in so many places Jon was surprised that he had not fallen down from the strain. He offered the man the chance to surrender shouting “It is still not late for you to lay down your weapons Ser. Lay them down and you shall live.”

Ser Rolph spit blood out of his mouth and shouted back “Never!”

Jon sighed “Very well, then you shall die.” And with that he slashed twice at the man and watched as the man’s head was severed from his neck and his body fell down to the ground. Jon had enough time to look around the courtyard and saw his northmen cutting the Westerling Garrison to pieces, Black Walder and Smalljon Umber were nowhere to be seen and then Black Walder emerged from what Jon thought was the Lord’ Solar bringing with him three ladies, all of whom were being led to him in chains. Robb was also leading two young men, one of whom seemed no older than Bran toward him both were chained.

Black Walder spoke first “Your Grace it gives me great pleasure to tell you that the castle is ours. These ladies are Lady Sybell. Lady Jeyne and Lady Eleyna Westerling.”

Robb then said “And may I present Ser Raynald Westerling and Rollam Westerling.”

Jon nodded and said “You shall be spared if you formally announce your surrender and pledge your service to me. Your castle is mine, your garrison is dead.”

Lady Sybell looked at Jon as if he was a piece of dirt that she never wanted to see again and he could tell that she rather grudgingly said “We surrender Your Grace. The Crag is yours.”

“Good. Walder see that the Westerlings have what they need. Robb come with me to the Lord’s Solar.” Jon said and then walked toward where he had seen Black Walder come out of. The Lord’s Solar for the Crag was a sparse room which just had a table and a few letters that were strewn about the table. Jon nodded to a chair and Robb sat down as did Jon, Ser Barristan as ever was his silent shadow standing behind Jon’s chair in his white Kingsguard armour, white cloak billowing behind him.

Jon took of his helm and laid it on the table as did Robb, together they looked at each other then broke out smiling and laughing.

“Well that was rather easy do you not think?” Robb asked.

“Aye it was, though when I heard you grunt when that arrow pierced your arm I was worried. How did you recover so quickly?” Jon asked.

Robb shrugged then winced with the pain “I didn’t I merely ploughed on with the job at hand. So what do you plan to do next, Your Grace?”

Jon ran a hand through his hair before saying “Well first I want the men to relax for a bit. We’ve taken Ashemark and the Crag now. With any luck Lady Mormont will have taken her fair share of livestock toward the Riverlands by now. Now we stay here and rest, then we deal with Devan Lannister and the host of men he’s gathering. And you need to have your wounds tended to Stark; I won’t have you dying on me. How’s Theon doing?”

Robb’s face immediately fell flat at the mention of Greyjoy, “He’s not doing good Jon. He took so many arrows when we were using the ram to break down the door, it’s a wonder that he even managed to fight. But he cut down three men before Torrhen had to drag him away from the fighting to somewhere safe; he was bleeding all over the place.”

Jon grimaced and said “Well tell him to get better and I want a maester treating all of our wounded. How many did we lose?”

Robb was silent before speaking “Forty dead and twenty injured. Out of the thousand men we brought and considering the number of arrows they loosed on us that is not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed “Well go on get yourself sorted out then, I’ll call you when I need you.”

Robb got up and bowed and the grinning said “Of course Your Grace.”

Once the door had closed behind Robb, Jon sighed and slumped in his chair. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and said to Ser Barristan “I had hoped to avoid any bloodshed today. Why must men be so stubborn Ser Barristan? Why?”

Ser Barristan said nothing for a moment before saying “Because Your Grace, men would rather die than bend. Especially Westerlanders. Lord Tywin over the years installed a fear of bending to anyone who was not him, into his bannermen and now they are paying the price.”

“Aye, that they are,” Jon sighed. “Still we must rest here for a few days. I shall not have my men bleeding themselves dry trying to crush the Lannisters. Once we receive word from Riverrun that Lady Mormont and Lord Umber are there, I shall write to Lords Karstark and Glover as tell them to bring their men here. Then we shall march on Lannisport and deal with Devan Lannister and this host he is building.”

Ser Barristan was about to reply when there was a knock on the door, Jon called for whoever it was to enter and found himself looking at a rather worried looking Robb. “I thought I told you to get your wounds tended to Robb? What are you doing here? And why do you look as if you’ve seen a ghost?”

Robb said nothing and wordlessly passed him two letters.

Jon looked at the seals on both letters; one bore the Direwolf of Winterfell, the other the Leaping Trout of House Tully. Jon looked at Robb questioningly, but he merely gestured at the letters indicating that Jon should read them himself to see what was the matter. So Jon did, deciding to read the letter from Riverrun first. :

_Your Grace,_

_I trust that the campaign in the West is going well. I write to tell you that we fought a Lannister host of 6,000 men at the Red Fork two days past; the host was 6,000 strong and was commanded by some Westerlord. The host commanded by myself was enough to defeat and destroy this host. But one man that lived from that fight told us a worrying tale. It appears that Lord Tywin received a messenger from the Tyrells whilst he was still camped at Harrenhal informing him of Stannis being a day’s ride from King’s Landing. Lannister immediately rode forth with 14,000 men to join the Tyrell host of some 60,000 men. It is clear that Lannister has allied with the Tyrells._

_Do not despair yet though. For today, Lord Tarly came to Riverrun with 20,000 men to pledge himself and his men to your cause, and Lord Yronwood came with 10,000 Dornish spears to pledge himself to you, your grace and Lord Royce wrote to me today to inform me that his 20,000 Valemen hold Harrenhal. We await your next command._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Edmure Tully._

Jon put that letter aside and felt a mixed sense of emotions, on the one hand he dreaded how powerful the Lannisters had become by allying with the Tyrells, but the fact that Lord Tarly one of the finest commanders in Westeros had turned cloak and promised himself to Jon was reassuring. He handed the letter to Ser Barristan and asked him to read it, whilst he picked up the letter from Winterfell wondering what could be written there.

There were only a few words written on the letter in Maester Luwin’s neat hand but they were enough to make Jon feel the dread pool in his stomach anew.

_Ironborn have invaded the north. Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte fallen. Scouts report movement in Wolfswood. Potential siege of Winterfell._

_Send help._

* * *

**Jon Connington**

When he had learnt of Rhaegar’s sole surviving son albeit by Lyanna Stark and how the boy had declared him king and was waging war against the Lannisters and winning, Jon Connington had felt duty bound to help him. He did not care that according Illyrio Mopatis the boy looked more like his mother than his father; all he cared about was that Rhaegar’s spirit still lived on in the form of his second son, the boy who had been born from Rhaegar’s attempts to have another daughter to bring the three heads of the dragons back to life. Jon wondered if the boy knew that, that was the reason why his father had absconded with his mother,  though in truth only Jon, Rhaegar and Elia had known the truth of Rhaegar’s reasons for doing as he did following from Harrenhal, and now Jon Connington was the only one still alive to tell the boy the whole tale.

He knew that Rhaegar had grown to love the Stark girl in a way that he had never been able to love Elia. Jon Connington thought he was not too fussed with that, all he wanted to do was go home and help his friend’s son achieve his birth right, and help him in a way that he had not been able to help the boy’s father or brother. As the city of King’s Landing came into site Jon swore to himself that he would die before he failed Jon Targaryen, the boy had been named for him after all and he knew he owed it to Rhaegar.

As their ship began to make its way into port, Jon Connington pulled his hood over his head to conceal his greying ginger hair, and went over the plan that he and the cheesemonger had concocted once the man had told Jon of the boy’s existence and situation. The boy was away fighting in the Westerlands, yet his aunt and cousin were in the Riverlands and his cousin the Lady Sansa was still held captive in the Red Keep, a prisoner of the false king Joffrey Baratheon. The cheesemonger had told Jon that his namesake, regard the Starks as family and the Lady Sansa held a special place in his heart and if Jon Connington was to get into the King’s good books what better way than to help his cousin escape.

Jon and Lemore were to get into the city pretending to be a married couple who were looking for their daughter. As they neared the Red Keep they would be met by one of Varys’s little birds who would sneak them into the Red Keep in time to watch the false king hold court so that they could see from a distance what the Lady Sansa looked like and to give Ashara a chance to quietly leave a note for the Lady Sansa in her chambers.

They were then to wait for her in the godswood and gods willing when the girl came they were to explain that they were working for Jon and that they were there to help her to Riverrun away from the Mad King Joffrey. Jon only prayed that the plan worked and that the girl did not tell anyone else of where she was going.

They got off the ship and walked through the streets of King’s Landing making their way toward the Red Keep, and what seemed like a trip down memory lane for Jon, he had spent most of his childhood and young adult life in the capital, squiring alongside his silver prince, this was the city where he first learnt to hold a live steel sword properly, where he jousted in his first tournament and then when old enough was knighted by the King himself. This city had been home to some of his finest moments as well as some of his darker times, it was in this city that he had returned to after failing to defeat Robert Baratheon at the Stoney Sept. It was here where he had hidden in a brothel of all places when news of Rhaegar’s death reached King’s Landing. Looking toward Lemore he could tell that the city was evoking equally strong memories for her as well. He was determined that this time the city would be home to only happy memories for his King.

As they passed by an inn that Jon and Rhaegar used to come to when they were lads they were met by a short young woman with black hair and dark eyes, looking for all the world like a young version of Lemore. She spoke with a heavily accented voice “You are the two who rode away on the white dove yes?”

Jon nodded and said “Yes we have come to see our little dove.”

The girl nodded and asked them to follow her which they did. They were led through the streets of the city and then entered an inn and walked through a door which led them into a tunnel which the girl told them went right through the heart of the Red Keep. As they got near the exit the girl turned toward them and said “Here is where I must leave you. When you exit the tunnel I shall close the exit hole. Turn left and you shall enter the throne room, be discreet about it court has already started.”

They said their thanks and then walked through the exit hole, Jon waited for a moment till he heard the hole click shut behind them and then taking Lemore’s hand walked toward the throne room, as they entered it Jon had to stifle a gasp, it looked exactly as it had when he had last been in it some sixteen years ago the only difference was that the dragon skulls had been removed and instead of dragon banners hanging from the ceiling there were Baratheon and Lannister banners.

Jon felt Lemore squeeze his hand and when he turned to ask her why she merely nodded to where the throne was and said quietly “He looks like the Kingslayer.”

It was true the Baratheon boy looked more Lannister than Baratheon perhaps there was some truth to the rumours about his parentage. Jon heard the name Sansa Stark being called and looked at the girl that he had been commanded with rescuing she had fiery auburn hair and looked like how Catelyn Tully had at Harrenhal all those years ago. Jon watched horrified as the Baratheon boy had the girl beaten by men of the Kingsguard simply because she was a Stark and her cousin and uncle had smashed Lannister forces in the West and the Riverlands. The boy had Lady Sansa hit in the chest till she was gasping for air and tears ran down her face. Jon clenched his fist, and nearly swore out lout this boy would be worse than Aerys if allowed to live.

Beside him he could feel Lemore shaking with barely controlled rage. He squeezed her hand and whispered “We must do as bid, go now walk out of the room slowly and leave the note in her room.”

She nodded and let go of his hand and slowly slipped out of the room, whilst Jon watched the Lady Sansa being mocked by the Baratheon boy and called a savage whilst the rest of the court laughed along with him. Yes, Jon decided the boy was worse than Aerys and would need to be taught a sharp lesson.

* * *

**Sansa**

She had been summoned to court, why she knew not but she was scared every time she came to court Joffrey had her beaten and the last two times Lord Tyrion had not been present to stop the beatings. Each time she left court feeling ashamed and humiliated, Joffrey always had her winded and had even once had her stripped naked before the whole court. All those knights and Lords of the south who were supposed to be the heart of chivalry had stood by and laughed along with Joffrey as she was beaten and humiliated and not one of them did a thing to stop him. When she had come to King’s Landing her head had been filled with the songs that spoke of the Knights and Lords of the South and how they were all so kind and brave, she realised she had been living in a childish fantasy then, the knights were not brave nor were the Lords, they were all cowards. She missed home she missed Jon most of all though, his warm embrace, his rare smiles, the way he could make her feel like she was the only person that mattered.

As she was called forward to stand before the Iron Throne, Joffrey asked her as he did every time “Do you know why you are here Lady Sansa?”

Sansa shook her head, and heard the court laugh and Joffrey say “Well you certainly just as stupid as mother says you are aren’t you. You would think after having been brought before court so many times you would have learnt a few things. No? Well let me tell you your traitorous uncle defeated my grandfather’s host at the Red Fork, and your traitor of a cousin has taken the Crag. Though your traitor brother Robb was injured, so I believe it is only fair if you share the pain he undoubtedly felt. Ser Meryn if you please.”

Ser Meryn struck her in the chest, again and again until her hands were on the ground and tears streamed down her face and she was gasping for air. She wished he would stop but Joffrey ordered him to help her up and then had Ser Balon Swann hit her also this time in the chest and the face, a change for Joffrey he never usually allowed his Kingsguard to hit her in the face. Eventually the beatings stopped and Sansa was ordered to leave the throne room, she ran out of the room and ran back to her chambers crying all the while with blood falling onto her dress. She hated Joffrey and the Kingsguard she hated them all.

Her maid Shae was nowhere to be found in her room, so Sansa plopped herself onto her bed and buried her head into her pillow and cried and cried. She cried and cried and prayed, prayed for Jon to come for her, prayed for him to win and take her away from this foul city, she prayed for him to kill Joffrey. She prayed and prayed, and eventually fell asleep her pillow stained with her tears.

When she awoke the sun was setting and Shae was standing next her with a sad smile on her face, holding a note. “This came for you my lady.” She said.

Sansa looked up and took the note from Shae, when she read it her heart nearly burst for joy. :

_The wolf and the dragon shall meet again. Come to the godswood tonight when the moon is full, the black dove shall ride free to rivers ._

Sansa read the note again and said to Shae, “When does the moon become full tonight Shae?”

Shae was silent for a moment and said “In one hour my lady.”

Sansa nodded her thanks and said “I shall need a few things Shae, my best blouse and my direwolf badge.”

“Of course my lady.” Shae said.

Sansa smiled and hugged Shae and said “I shall miss you Shae.”

Shae smiled and said “And I you my lady. Be safe and careful.”

“I will.” Sansa said.

She counted the minutes down until she could go to the godswood, when she saw the full moon through her window; she put the hood up on her cloak and made her way down to the godswood. As she walked into the godswood she could hear her heart hammering in her chest, this was the moment she had been waiting for. She was finally going home.

She was just near the clearing where the big Weirwood tree was when she heard a voice say “Lady Sansa?”

“Yes,” She replied

“Good, I have been waiting for you.” The voice replied.

“Who are you, and are you taking me home?” Sansa asked.

“Yes my lady, yes I am. As to whom I am let us just say that I am a friend to your cousin’s cause.” The voice replied.

“I would see your face.” Sansa said trying to keep the hint of nervousness from her voice.

“As you will my lady.” The voice said, and then she heard footsteps and the voice became a man, with greying ginger hair and beard. The man was tall and broad of shoulder and muscular.

“I trust you know how to ride my lady?” The man asked.

“Yes but not well.” Sansa replied, that had always been more Arya’s hobby.

“It does not matter you shall be riding with me. Lemore it is time bring the horses.” The man said, and out of the darkness a woman emerged with haunting violet eyes and dark hair. She brought with her two stallions, a black one and a grey one. The man helped Sansa mount the grey one before he too got onto it, the lady called Lemore mounted the black one.

As they set off and left the Godswood behind the man said to her over his shoulder “Not a word now till we leave the city, and if any person asks us along the road you are our daughter is that understood.”

Sansa nodded, and then they were silent, until they rode through the city and the darkness and Sansa shivered. As they got nearer to leaving the city, Sansa had a nervous feeling what if this was all some trap and the Lannisters stopped their horses before they could leave and dragged her before Joffrey, what if this man and woman weren’t taking her to Jon but to someone else.

But nothing happened as they left King’s Landing behind and then continued riding for what seemed many a mile. In fact the moon was waning when the man finally stopped and helped her dismount from the horse. “We are to rest here for a little while, before carrying on it would not do to have the horses die on us.”

Sansa finally plucked up the courage to ask the man “Where are we going good Ser?”

The man did not reply but the woman called Lemore did “Why to Riverrun sweetling. To your mother and sister. We’re taking you home.”

* * *

**Tyrion**

_Stannis Baratheon was attacking King’s Landing. His ships had been spotted but a mile off the coast in Blackwater Bay and there was hardly any time for them to prepare a proper recon of the city. So here he was Tyrion Lannister acting Hand of the King standing atop the walls of the city watching as Stannis Baratheon’s fleet sailed closer and closer to the city. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Tyrion Lannister was bloody petrified, if his plan failed all their heads would be on spikes. They had not enough men to defend the city properly should Stannis get his men to shore before the Wildfire could truly burn._

_Next to Tyrion on his right hand side stood Bronn on his left side stood his nephew the King. Tyrion turned to Bronn and said “Give the signal.” Bronn immediately blew his horn and a chorus of horns could be heard across the walls of the city and across the water, and then the barges were lit as were the ships, and the wildfire came to light. A dozen great fires raged under the city walls, where casks of burning pitch had exploded, but the wildfire reduced them to no more than candles in a burning house, their orange and scarlet pennons fluttering insignificantly against the jade holocaust. The low clouds caught the colour of the burning river and roofed the sky in shades of shifting green, eerily beautiful. A terrible beauty. Like dragon fire. Tyrion wondered if Aegon the Conqueror had felt like this as he flew above his field of fire._

_The furnace wind lifted his crimson cloak and beat at his bare face, yet he could not turn away. He was dimly aware of the gold cloaks cheering from the hoardings. He had no voice to join them. It was a half victory. It will not be enough._

_He saw another of the hulks he’d stuffed full of King Aerys’s fickle fruits engulfed by the hungry flames. A fountain of burning jade rose from the river, the blast so bright he had to shield his eyes. Plumes of fire thirty and forty feet high danced upon the waters, crackling and hissing. For a few moments they washed out the screams. There were hundreds in the water, drowning or burning or doing a little of both._

_Do you hear them shrieking Stannis? Do you see them burning? This is your work as much as mine. Somewhere in that seething mass of men south of the Blackwater Stannis was watching too, Tyrion knew. He’d never had his brother Robert’s thirst for battle. He would command from the rear, from the reserve, much as Lord Tywin was wont to do. Like as not he was sitting a warhorse right now, clad in bright armour, his crown upon his head. A crown of red gold, Varys says, its points fashioned in the shapes of flames._

_Joffrey shouted up from the wall walk complaining about his burning ships. Tyrion gave no response, it could not be helped had they not sailed out to meet Stannis he would have suspected a trap. Some of Stannis’s ships though remained afloat not burning, Tyrion signalled to the gold cloaks to beginning throwing the trebuchets over the wall in their catapults, Stannis’s fleet would burn before he could land any men whatsoever on the ground._

_Joffrey went off to help throw the fire bombs, and Tyrion watched as more and more of Stannis’s ships caught aflame, burning more and more of his men alive and painting the skyline red, green, and blue. A runner came panting up the steps. “My lords hurry!” He threw himself to one knee. “They’ve landed men on the tourney grounds, hundreds! They’re bringing a ram up to the King’s Gate.”_

_Tyrion cursed and made for the steps with a rolling waddle, Podrick Payne waited below with their horses. They galloped off down River Row, Pod and Ser Mandon Moore coming hard behind him. The shuttered houses were steeped in green shadow, but there was no traffic to get in their way, though off in the distance Tyrion heard the sound of horses pattering down a nearby street he paid it no mind._

_The Hound was nowhere in sight when he came upon the battle, men were stood rooted to the ground with horror on their faces, as Stannis’s men came out of the water the wildfire making them appear like demons.  Tyrion sighed and shouted loud as he could “Men of king’s landing, to me. We charge on three.”_

_When three came Tyrion lowered his helm and charged on his horse swinging his sword like a mad man, he counted one, two, three, four, five men that he rode down, five that he cut down and three that he injured before he was thrown from his horse._

_He hacked at Stannis’s soldiers’ legs and shins all the while shouting “LANNISTER!” At the top of his lungs, it seemed that his display had shamed the others into acting for he heard shouts of “King’s Landing!” “King Joffrey!” and “Halfman!” as the men of king’s Landing began to attack Stannis’s men. In front of him reflected in the pale moonlight he saw Stannis’s ships burning all the brighter and soon found himself cutting off men’s feet and ankles and leaving them to be trampled to death. Though the force of men forced him into the riverbank, and soon he found himself being dragged out to sea to burn with Stannis’s ships and men. He distantly heard Ser Mandon Moore shouting “My hand My Lord take my hand!”_

_Tyrion turned and saw Ser Mandon with his hand outstretched Tyrion pushed against the current and grasped his hand. But then just when Tyrion thought he was safe, Ser Mandon’s sword slashed just beneath his eyes, and he felt its cold hard touch and then a blaze of pain. His head spun around as if he’d been slapped. The shock of the cold water was a second slap more jolting than the first. He flailed for something to grab onto , knowing that once he went down he was not like to come back up. Somehow his hand found the splintered end of a broken oar. Clutching it tight as a desperate lover he shinnied up foot by foot his head throbbed horribly and his mouth was full of blood._

_Finally he rolled over the side and lay breathless and exhausted flat on his back, balls of green and orange crackled overhead. Ser Mandon blocked out the rest of his view though. The knight was a white steel shadow, his eyes shining darkly behind his helm. Tyrion had no more strength than a rag doll, Ser Mandon put the point of his sword to the hollow of his throat and curled both hands around the hilt._

_And suddenly he lurched to the left, staggering into the rail and wood split and Ser Mandon Moore vanished with a shout and a splash. An instant later the hulls came together so hard the deck seemed to jump. Then someone was kneeling over him. “Jaime?” he croaked almost choking on the blood that filled his mouth. Who else would save him if not his brother?_

_“Be still my lord you’re hurt bad.” A boy’s voice that makes no sense thought Tyrion. It sounded almost like Pod._

 

 

 

 


	11. Where The Wild Things Are

**Varys**

_The throne room was a sea of jewels, furs, and bright fabrics. Lords and ladies filled the back of the hall and stood beneath the high windows, jostling like fishwives on a dock._

_The denizens of Joffrey’s court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed to take flight. The High Septon’s crystal crown fired rainbows through the air every time he moved his head. At the council table, Queen Cersei shimmered in a cloth of gold gown slashed in burgundy velvet, while beside her Varys himself fussed and simpered in a lilac brocade( an act of course, to hide the news of Lady Sansa’s departure.) Moon Boy wore a new suit of motley, clean in as a spring morning. Even Lady Tanda and her daughters looked pretty in matching gowns of turquoise silk and vair, and Lord Gyles was coughing into a square of scarlet silk and trimmed with golden lace. King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies on his head his heavy golden crown._

_They were all gathered here today to welcome the “hero of the city,” Lord Tywin Lannister rode his warhorse down the length of the hall and dismounted before the Iron Throne. His armour was burnished red steel, inlaid with golden scrollwork and ornamentation. His rondels were sunbursts, the roaring lions that crowned his helm had ruby eyes, and a lioness on each shoulder fastened a cloth of gold cloak so long and heavy that it draped the hindquarters of his charger._

_In short the man cut an impressive figure, even though Varys knew that the armour he wore was the same armour that he had worn during the Sack some sixteen years ago. Joffrey descended from the throne to embrace his grandfather and made a show of asking him to assume governance of the realm, and Lord Tywin solemnly accepted the responsibility, “Until Your Grace does come of age.” The squires removed his armour and Joffrey fastened the Hand’s chain of office around his neck. Lord Tywin took a seat at the council table beside the queen. Cersei nodded for the ceremonies to continue._

_A fanfare of brazen trumpets greeted each of the heroes as they stepped between the great oaken doors. Heralds cried their name and deeds for all to hear, and the noble knights and highborn ladies cheered lustily as cutthroats at a cockfight. Pride of place was given to Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, a once powerful man (and once a Targaryen loyalist) gone to fat yet still handsome. His sons followed him in; Ser Loras and his older brother Ser Garlan the Gallant. The three dressed alike, in green velvet trimmed with sable._

_The king descended the throne once more to greet them, a great honour. He fastened about the throat of each a chain of roses wrought in soft yellow gold, from which hung a golden disc with the lion of Lannister picked out in rubies. “The roses support the lion, as the might of Highgarden supports the realm.” Proclaimed Joffrey. “If there is any boon you would ask of me, ask and it shall be yours.”_

_“Your Grace,” said Ser Loras, “I beg the honour of serving in your Kingsguard, to defend you against your enemies.” A pity thought Varys; the boy would have done well on the rightful King’s guard._

_Joffrey drew the Knight of Flowers to his feet and kissed him on his cheek. “Done brother.”_

_Lord Tyrell bowed his head. “There is no greater pleasure than to serve the King’s Grace. If I was deemed worthy to join your royal council, you would find none more neither loyal nor true.” As long as his daughter is Queen and his grandson is king, thought Varys, otherwise consider the alliance done for._

_Joffrey put a hand to Lord Tyrell’s shoulder, and kissed him when he stood. “Your wish is granted.”_

_Ser Garlan Tyrell, five years senior to Ser Loras, was a taller bearded version of his more famous younger brother. He was thicker about the chest and broader at the shoulders. “Your Grace, I have a maiden sister, Margaery, the delight of our house. She was wed to Renly Baratheon, as you know but Renly went to war before the marriage could be consummated, so she remains innocent. Margaery has heard tales of your wisdom, courage and chivalry and has come to love you from afar. I beseech you to send for her, to take her hand in marriage, and wed your house to mine for all time.” Varys had to try very hard to repress a snort of laughter. Joffrey wise, brave and chivalrous indeed, and Varys was the father come to life again._

_King Joffrey made a show of looking surprised. “Ser Garlan, your sister’s beauty is famed throughout the Seven Kingdoms, but I am promised to another. A king must keep to his word.”_

_Queen Cersei got to her feet and said “Your Grace, in the judgement of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason, a girl whose cousin is in open rebellion against the throne and seeks to usurp your place. Sire your councillors beg you for the good of the realm, set Sansa Stark aside. The Lady Margaery will make you a far more suitable queen.”_

_Like a pack of trained dogs the lords and ladies in the hall began shouting their approval for the Lady Margaery._

_Joffrey raised a hand and said “I would like to heed the wishes of my people, mother, but I took a holy vow.”_

_The High Septon stepped forward. “Your Grace, the gods hold betrothal solemn, but your father King Robert of blessed memory, made this pact before the Starks of Winterfell had revealed their falseness. Their crimes against the realm have freed you from any promise you might have made. So far as the Faith is concerned, there is no valid marriage contract twixt you and Sansa Stark.” Very good thought Varys, dance to my tune Lord Tywin and you might just find something in it for you at the end, very good._

_Lord Tywin was looking at his grandson. Joffrey gave him a sullen glance shifted his feet and helped Ser Garlan to rise. “The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. I will wed your sweet sister, and gladly ser.” He kissed Ser Garlan on a bearded cheek as the cheers rose all around them._

_Varys tuned out the rest of the meeting occasionally zoning back in when an important announcement was made, but the rest of the session was simply spent giving rewards to those who had fought loyally for the King against Stannis Baratheon. Littlefinger was made Lord of Harrenhal and Lord Paramount of the Trident, a move Varys knew Tywin Lannister had made so that Baelish could be of eligible suitor to wed Lysa Arryn and bring the men of the Vale under the Iron Throne’s control, something Varys knew would never happen, Lysa Arryn was too scared and Littlefinger was waiting to change sides at any moment._

_As the council meeting came to a close and everyone was dismissed Varys walked out of the throne room as quickly as possible before meeting with one of his little birds in his solar. “It is done?” He asked._

_The bird replied “It is done my lord.”_

_“Good,” Varys said “Make sure no one gets wind of this until it is too late. Take this piece of paper and send it to our friend across the water and to our friends travelling to the fish.”_

_The bird bowed and left the room. Varys sighed contentedly as he sat down and began to look over the whisperings his other birds had collected during the days that had followed the Battle of Blackwater Bay. The rightful king was one step closer to getting what was rightfully his._

* * *

**Stannis**

He still saw the green and blue and orange of the wildfire at night as he slept. Sometimes he even felt as if he was being bathed in it. He suspected that had more to do with being on Dragonstone of all places, but he was not sure. There was much Stannis Baratheon was not sure about these days, and whether or not continuing to fight for the Iron Throne was one such thing he was doubtful about.

It was not just that most of his ships had been burnt to ash by the Imp’s clever ploy of using Wildfire; it was that he had come so close to actually breeching the walls of the Red Keep when Tywin Lannister and the Tyrells had arrived and struck his forces in the rear. That had of course led to an absolute butchery as men were cut down left, right and centre around Stannis, who continued fighting whilst other men, his men, fled and scattered around him. He was severly wounded by fighting so much and for so long. But he had kept going until; one of the knights had dragged him back from the city and all the way to the ship with which he and some of his men, roughly 2000 of them had made their way back to Dragonstone to breathe for another day.

Of those 2000 men one thousand of them led by Lord Adrian Celtigar had taken their ships and sailed for Seagard claiming that Stannis was done and that he, and his red priestess could burn in all of the seven hells. Stannis’s men led by Lord Florent tried to convince him to burn them alive, but Stannis had allowed them to go unharmed and unscathed, for they were only following what they believed to be right. Stannis himself was considering abandoning his claim and bending the knee to Jon Targaryen, the boy had done well for himself last Stannis had heard he had smashed Stafford Lannister’s host at Oxcross, held Ashemark and had stormed the Crag, and his men were raiding the Westerlands taking the plunder back to Riverrun, draining the Westerlands storage supplies for the upcoming winter.

Stannis thought rightly or wrongly that perhaps if he bent the knee to King Jon, the boy might give him Storm’s End and allow him and his family to live. He had always felt uneasy about declaring himself king, and had only been persuaded into doing so by the point made by his wife that he was the rightful heir to Robert and as House Baratheon was the house on the throne, he was its rightful heir. Though after hearing about King Jon’s victories and feeling his own resounding defeat in the one true battle he had fought so far during this war Stannis felt the old doubts creep back in again. If he had been a godly man perhaps he would have taken the defeat as a sign that the gods did not wish for him to be king, but Stannis Baratheon had no times for gods, be they the Seven or the Red God of Melisandre’s religion. No what he believed in were solid hard facts and honour and duty, and right now those three things were screaming at him to bend the knee to King Jon and make his peace and help bring down the Lannisters.

He still remembered when he had said as much in front of Melisandre, his wife and his good father. They had all been held dumbstruck by his sudden admission of doubt, but then they had all bombarded him with reasons as to why he should not submit or abandon his cause. Melisandre and Selyse’s reasons had all been religious talking about how he was the Lord’s chosen one come again to bring light in the upcoming darkness, of what darkness they spoke of he knew not nor did he truly care, all he cared about was gaining some of his battered honour before it was too late. His good father offered more practical reasons as to why he should not abandon his cause; if he did then it was possible that the Lannisters would send the Tyrell fleet to Dragonstone to arrest and execute him, his wife and his daughter Shireen before King Jon had the chance to come to his aid.

Stannis knew not what to do or where to turn. He was surrounded by enemies the Lannisters to the south, Jon Targaryen to the west. He had only two viable options bend or break. For the first time in many years he wondered what his father Lord Steffon would have done in his situation, and found himself unable to truly think. He knew what Robert would have done, kept fighting until either he was dead or his enemy was dead. That was what his brother had done during the rebellion, kept on fighting until his enemy could not keep up anymore. The thing was for Stannis he knew that the one true enemy was the Lannisters not the Targaryen boy, but how to make others see, that was the question that he brooded on day and night.

His brooding was disturbed when he saw Melisandre’s red shadow hovering over him, looking up he saw the ruby at her throat pulsing with energy. She asked him “What are you thinking of Your Grace?”

Stannis said nothing so she continued “Do not think of bending the knee to Jon Targaryen, the boy is a usurper and green and unready to fight the darkness that builds in the north. You are the lord’s chosen, Azor Azahi come again the people shall all bend their knee to you when you have led them from darkness into the light.”

Stannis remained silent but inside he was screaming at her words, screaming at himself, why did she keep insisting that he was the chosen one, if he was her god’s chosen one why did her god not help him take King’s Landing. Though he did not bother voicing these thoughts for he knew what she would say. Instead he merely grounded his teeth together in frustration and waited for her to continue speaking.

She did not disappoint. “My King allow me to work some magic and the kingdom shall be ripe for the taking.” With that she pulled him up and led him to a glowing chalice that she had placed beside his bed, she gave him the chalice and said “Say the names of the usurpers who plague your kingdom, and drink and they shall die.”

Stannis sighed and did as bid, saying the names “The usurpers: Balon Greyjoy, Jon Targaryen and Joffrey Waters.” And then drank deeply as the foul tasting liquid went down his throat he could not but help wondering if it would be worth it in the end or if this woman would be the death of him.

\---------------

* * *

 

**Sansa**

They rode hard and nonstop for almost three days after leaving King’s Landing, they briefly stopped for a few hours rest at Tumbler’s falls before they continued making a heavy pace toward Riverrun. Along the way though Sansa saw many men begging by the roadside and others dressed in the garb of Septons and Septas preaching about the end of the world and the reign of the incest born bastard Joffrey. When they did stop for the night next, it was at an inn near High Heart, and the greyed haired ginger man whose name she had learnt from Lemore was Jon Connington, booked those two rooms, one for himself and one for Sansa and Lemore.

Lord Connington Sansa had discovered was not much a talker, he only spoke when spoken too or when he told her to do a certain thing. Lemore was by far more pleasant company, she spoke with Sansa frequently and asked her many questions about her likes and dislikes and about her family, and strangely enough for Sansa  Lemore often asked about Sansa’s father and what she knew of her uncle Brandon, whom had been her father’s elder brother. Lemore herself said little of her life before she had become a Septa but spoke to Sansa about the wonders of the world she had seen in Essos, she described with a mischievous glint in her eye one day about the low cut gowns and pleasure houses of Lys, much to Sansa’s shock and her description of some of the activities she had done there had even forced Lord Connington to laugh. Deep down though, Sansa could sense a sort of deep rooted sadness in both Lord Connington and Lemore, as though they had lost someone close to them, though she wondered what could be the cause of such sadness she never dared asked in case the two changed their minds about taking her to Riverrun and instead turned their horses round and rode for King’s Landing to leave her in Joffrey’s clutches once again.

It was on their seventh day of riding that Sansa finally saw Riverrun on the horizon. Its big walls flew the banners of House Tully, House Stark and a new banner which Sansa assumed was Jon’s own one. For it showed the three headed dragon of House Targaryen halved with a white direwolf on a grey field, clearly meant to represent Ghost. Sansa felt herself shiver with anticipation as they got closer and closer to the castle; her mother was in there she had not seen her mother in nigh on two years. She wondered if her mother would be pleased to see her especially if she told her the things she had done for the Lannisters.

Just before they approached the castle gates Lord Connington stopped their horses and turned to Sansa and whispered in her ear “Keep your hood up until we are right in front of the gates do you understand me?” When Sansa nodded he went on “They will likely be on high alert, due to the war so say not a word until I tell you to.” Again Sansa nodded, Lord Connington seemed satisfied with her answer for he then spurred their horse on and Lady Lemore followed. As they got nearer to Riverrun Sansa could spot many tents camped round the castle bearing various sigils some she recognised others she did not, though she heard Lord Connington curse “Damn it, I did not expect there to be soldiers camped round the damn castle the cheesemonger forgot to tell us that!”

To which Lemore replied “It’s okay Jon, just follow the plan.”

Lord Connington grunted in response and then stopped his horse right infront of the gates. The gateman called out asking who was there and what they wanted. Lord Connington called out “I come to pledge my sword to his Grace King Jon Targaryen’s service.”

To which the herald replied “We’ve got a lot of swords now. Why should I let you through eh?”

Lord Connington replied “Because I am an old friend of his grace’s father. I am Lord Connington.”

The gateman snorted and said “Aye and I’m Baelor the Blessed returned. Lord Connington’s dead, been dead many a year. Said he drank himself to death in exile.”

Lord Connington bristled and then said “Very well since you do not believe me perhaps you shall believe her. My lady.”

And with that Sansa pulled her hood down and stared at the gateman and said in as commanding a tone as possible “I am Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell, cousin to his grace. I bid you allow us enter the castle for I must speak with my mother.”

The man hurried to obey, and the gates of Riverrun opened to allow them through closing once their horses were into the courtyard. Two stable hands rushed out to take their horses and help them dismount and then the gateman showed them the way to the great hall where they were told Sansa’s mother was.

As the doors to the Great Hall opened, the gateman spoke to the herald, who then announced Lord Connington. Sansa walked with Lord Connington and Lady Lemore till they stood in the middle of the hall, though Lord Connington stood in front of her. She heard a man say “I see the rumours of your death were greatly exaggerated Lord Connington.”

Lord Connington replied in that deep gruff voice of his “Aye that they were Ser Brynden. That they were.”

Ser Brynden was her mother’s uncle, her grandfather’s brother Sansa remembered known as the Blackfish and renowned fighter and commander. He spoke again “Pray tell me Lord Connington what is an exiled Lord, who has been dead for the past few years doing here in Riverrun, with a Septa? Have you come to pledge your sword to King Jon’s cause?”

Lord Connington was silent for a moment and said “Aye Ser Brynden I have. But I have also come to return to Lady Stark something that she holds close and dear to her heart.”

Sansa heard the murmuring of those assembled in the Great Hall and could hear chairs moving to see what it was Lord Connington could possibly be about to return to her mother, when Lord Connington moved to his left and allowed Sansa to come into plain sight for the first time, Sansa heard her mother gasp. Lord Connington said “My Lady, I have returned your daughter the Lady Sansa to you, as a sign of good faith on my part.”

Sansa saw her mother get up and walk toward her with shaky footsteps and wet eyes looking as if she could not believe that Sansa was real, Sansa was finding it hard to believe that any of this was truly happening and expected to wake up in the Red Keep at any minute. But then she felt her mother’s hand on her cheek and heard her whisper “Sansa, oh sweetling it truly is you.” And before she knew Sansa was engulfed in her mother’s embrace once more and they were both crying, but these were tears of joy that fell from Sansa’s eyes. She heard her mother say to her “Arya is also here sweetling. She is in bed with a fever but she shall be so happy to see you.”

Sansa could only nod her head tucked in underneath her mother’s chin, she was still crying but her mother lifted her head to look at Lord Connington and Sansa heard her mother say “Thank you for returning my daughter to me Lord Connington. You have my eternal gratitude.”

Lord Connington nodded and said “Truly my lady, it is no problem. A daughter and a mother need to be with one another especially during these times. I was merely doing my duty.”

_Sansa heard her uncle the Blackfish say “Well we shall see to it that you and your female companion have suitable accommodation and that word is sent to His Grace."  
_

* * *

**Jon**

Jon’s head hurt and painfully so. He had been in the Lord’s solar discussing what their next move should be with Robb and the northern lords for what seemed like days, when in fact it had only been a matter of hours. Some of the lords including Lords Umber and Karstark were in favour of marching on Casterly Rock and dealing with the small host that Devan Lannister had managed to muster, so that the Lannister threat was dealt with once and for all, whilst Lord Glover was all in favour of marching back east and then heading north to deal with the Ironborn. Whilst Jon favoured the direct attack on Casterly Rock and dealing with the last Lannister host in the Westerlands, he could understand Lord Glover’s insistence that they ride back north, for Deepwood Motte was one of the fortresses that the Ironborn had taken as part of their invasion of the North.

The Ironborn invasion of the north had caused quite a bit of uneasiness in the camp, with many of the lords unwilling to call for Theon’s execution given the fact that Theon had fought so bravely throughout the war so far and was also at present lying on death’s door, his wounds being worse than what was originally thought. That was also part of the reason why they had lingered for so long in the Crag when Jon had not meant to spend longer than a few days in the seat of House Westerling, Robb had urged Jon to wait on marching until Theon was better to ride, for they both knew that if they were to take the Rock Theon would want to be there, yet according to the castle’s maester and Lady Jeyne Theon was not getting any better, in fact he seemed to be getting worse.

Jon needed to make a decision and quickly, and the more he sat and thought about it, the more he began to think that attacking the Rock would be a good idea, for if the Rock fell then they could plunder the gold and the other resources that were there, and could use the ships in Lannisport to potentially plan an invasion of Pyke to draw the Ironborn back to the islands. Furthermore if Casterly Rock fell then Tywin Lannister would have to come out of the city and fight, and this time Jon meant to see him finished. If Tywin Lannister marched Jon meant to have Lord Royce’s forces at Harrenhal delay him till, the northern forces could come east where Jon planned to link up with Randyll Tarly and Lord Yronwood’s men and then the battle would be the final battle for control of the kingdoms. Jon was confident that if such a battle happened he would win not only because of the numbers, but because Serrax the black dragon he had was now bigger than Ghost and continued to grow.

Eventually Jon had had enough of listening to the Lords bickering over what to do and said “My lords enough. We have talked and talked, and have yet to reach a decision. Whilst we sit here blathering like sheep, Tywin Lannister has time to consolidate his power in King’s Landing. We must strike and we must strike fast. Lord Karstark you said that Devan Lannister was amassing a host at Lannisport correct.”

Lord Karstark nodded “Aye your grace. My scouts before we came here reported that he was heading to Castamere.”

Jon smiled then. “Very good, that is very good. My lords we march for Castamere at dusk, we shall be dancing with lions.”

Dusk came and as Jon mounted his horse, he felt a pang of guilt for leaving Theon behind, when he had gone to say goodbye to the Ironborn, he had been asleep, and Jon had a strange feeling that, that might be the last time he ever say Theon Greyjoy. He promised to win a victory to do the Greyjoy proud and promised to drink to him if they won. Jon looked around the courtyard, as his men mounted their horses Ser Barristan a white shadow behind him, Ghost a white shadow in front of him and Serrax a black mass in the air high above. Jon watched Jeyne Westerling saying something to Robb and judging by the way they embraced before Robb mounted his horse, it was more than just formal goodbyes. Jon made a note to speak with Robb about the Westerling girl after the fight.

They rode largely in silence through the dead of night till the ruins of Castamere came into sight. Lord Tywin had crushed House Reyne and House Tarbeck at Castamere some forty years ago when they had rebelled against House Lannister, and had brought the castle tumbling down. In the horizon Jon could see the Lannister Lion flapping in the wind, could see the tents of the Lannister soldiers scattered around the remains of a once great castle, he called a halt to the procession about a mile from the ruins. They had snuck up on Jaime Lannister and Stafford Lannister, the same trick was not like to work a third time. Jon stayed mounted as did his men, he was waiting for a sign, a twist in the moon, a crack of a branch anything that could allow the Lannisters to become alert to their presence, he wanted them to know that he was here before they died.

Eventually Jon lost his patience waiting for a sign and with his mind nudged Ghost and Serrax into making as much noise as possible. The sounds of their howling and screeching drew the attention of Lannister scouts, and Jon made sure that they were allowed to ride back in time to tell their commanders of the host gathering at their doors.

 Robb rode up to him and asked “What are you doing Your Grace?! Why aren’t you attacking?”

Jon turned to look at Robb and said “I’m giving them a chance Robb. A chance to surrender.”

Robb snorted “Because that worked so well at Ashemark and at the Crag? Why not just attack now and get it over with?”

Before Jon could answer he heard the sound of horns being blown, “That’s coming from the Lannisters. Robb tell the men to get ready, we have battle.” By the time Robb rode off to alert the other men, Jon could hear the sound of men mounting horses and the galloping of hooves in the distance, he felt the adrenaline begin to kick in and felt blood rushing to his body. As Ghost howled so did he and he drew his sword from its scabbard and yelled “My men we have lions to kill!” And he charged on head first into the Lannister army, cutting down men left, right and centre. Though this time he received many bruises and dents to his armour, the adrenaline meant he didn’t feel them, until his sword was stained red with blood and his blue armour was stained red with his own blood.

He came face to face with Ser Devan Lannister and the man looked like a lion with long hair and a bushy beard, neither man said much before their dance of steel began, swinging and hacking, dents were made, steel screeched on steel and blood fell from each man’s wounds. Though neither seemed willing to give ground, both were tiring out quickly, both were dripping with sweat and blood, and yet they continued their dance, swinging and hacking away at each other. It was Ser Devan who broke the dance swinging wildly at Jon’s undefended right hand side and striking his right shoulder drawing blood and lots of it, Jon grunted in pain unable to move his right arm without causing pain. Ser Devan advanced further knocking Jon’s shield from his hand and striking his left hand causing blood to burst through the gauntlet. Jon unable to move his right arm without causing himself pain and without a shield could do not much more than watch horrified as Ser Devan cut down his horse, and he fell off it just managing to roll to the right as the horse fell.

He watched transfixed as Ser Devan raised his sword, ready to strike the killing blow, before he saw a white blur emerge out of nowhere and savage Ser Devan Lannister causing the man to fall to the ground dead with his throat torn in two. Jon tries to move, tries to get up but is unable to. He hears a voice, a deep voice saying “Easy your grace, you’re hurt badly. Easy now.” He tries to place a face to the voice but finds that he can’t as he soon finds it hard to keep his eyes open, and then before he knows it blackness engulfs him.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. When The Wild Wind Blows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, kudos and more. It really means a lot and helps me continue writing this story. If you know who Serrax the dragon was in his past life, leave a comment in the comments section.Reviews welcome :)

**Jon**

**_He ran with his pack brother through lion territory hunting deer and other prey. It felt good to be able to run free again. After the battle where the soul mate had been hurt, he had been unwilling to leave the campsite where the men of the soul mate were. There was talk that the soul mate might be too grievously wounded to continue fighting, but he knew that that was a lie, the soul mate would continue fighting until the pack sister’s soul mate, and the soul mate were reunited. For the soul mate loved the pack sister’s soul mate fiercely. It was not the same sort of love that the souls mate for the pack brother’s soul mate, but something more primal more complex. But he knew that the soul mate would live and would fight again, until the Lion’s den had fallen._ **

**_Above him the soul mate’s black winged creature flew high and proud in the Lion’s sky, the black wing flew high and blew black fire from his throat bringing creatures down to the ground to eat and for him to kill. He liked the black wing, they understood each other and the soul mate innately in a way that not even the pack brother did. The men of the soul mate’s camp were scared of him and the black wing, they said that the creatures were signs from the gods that the soul mate and his pack were meant to rule the man kingdom, that those who stood in their way would pay the ultimate price. He was not sure whether or not that was true for he knew that the soul mate and the pack had pure hearts, of course they would they came from an old and noble lineage, much more honourable than the lions and the dragons. Though the black wing refused to accept that sort of judgement from him, for he insisted that the lions were all traitors and that the dragons had been shamed by their last known king before the stag had rightly come to power. The black wing also talked most fervently about two other dragons on the other side of the running water, and how they would come together to help the soul mate defend the realm against the upcoming darkness. Though the black wing often spoke of the darkness that was beginning to creep into these other two dragons, due to their soul mate’s conflicting desires._ **

**_The black wing was growing each and every day, for the past few weeks that they had been camped in the lion’s gold den, the black wing had become the size of a full grown aurochs, and could swallow one whole in that great big gullet of his. The black wing would be important in the upcoming battle, he knew that for certain._ **

_High above the wolf, he soared, his rider had named him Serrax, it was a fitting name though in his past life he had been known as something else something more dragon. Though he found it fitting that he had been tasked by the gods to look after one of his own blood, though his rider knew his old name only through the stories they told the children of the Dragons made flesh, and how he had conquered Westeros with his sisters all those years ago. In his rider he saw the future of the realm, his rider was the one who would restore Westeros to its former glory and undo the stain that the lions and stags had wrought upon the great nation._

_He knew his rider yearned for the she wolf with the auburn hair, he could feel it even now when his rider slept. He wished to help his rider, though when they had fought the battle against the lions at the gold den known as Castamere, his rider had been severly injured by the lion looking man, though the white wolf had torn the man’s throat out before he could do any serious damage to the rider. The men in his blood’s camp talked about marching onto the seat of the Lion’s power, Casterly Rock. In all the years that he had lived as a mortal on the planet the Rock had never fallen, but then again it had never had to face dragon fire before, for old Loren had come and fought him at the Field of Fire and had been badly wounded, so there had been no need to burn the Rock. But now, there was a need. He had grown as big as a full grown aurochs, not as big as Balerion had been when the Field of Fire had happened, but he still continued to grow, and soon enough his blood would be able to ride him and take the Rock and then they would be able to return to the auburn haired she wolf._

_Jon dreamed, he dreamed of home, he dreamed of Winterfell and Bran and Rickon, he dreamed of play fighting with Robb and Theon, and of Arya running along behind them trying to join in. Most of all though he dreamed of Sansa. Of her rosy cheeks, her Tully blue eyes and her auburn hair, and how it would feel between his fingers as he stroked it, and how her eyes would light up whenever she saw him. He thought of the words she had said to him before she had rode south with the king all those years ago. He thought of her now all alone in King’s Landing left at the mercy of that prick Joffrey, oh how he wanted to throttle that bastard._

_He dreamed of wedding Sansa, had dreamed of doing so since they were both old enough to understand that the love between them was more than just sibling love. He dreamed of how beautiful she would look in her wedding dress, and how her lips would feel against his as he kissed her and of the life they could have together. If only he could see her now, he would tell her all of this, if only he could see her now he would hold her and never let her go._

Jon woke with a start, sitting up startled sweat pouring down his face. He could have sworn Sansa had been within touching distance when he dreamed. But as he looked around his surroundings he realised that he was in a tent, his tent. In his bed, alone.

“Ah good, your awake. I was beginning to wonder when you would.” Jon turned and saw Robb sitting in a chair not too far from the bed, a wry grin on his face.

Jon tried to hide his embarrassment and asked “What happened Robb, how long have I been here?”

Robb looked at him and then said softly “Two weeks Jon. You were wounded pretty badly fighting Devan Lannister. What you were thinking going up against him on your own when you were already badly injured I don’t know. You’re lucky Ghost jumped on the man, otherwise you’d be dead.”

Jon winced as he moved to the right, looking down he saw that his chest and arms were bandaged pretty heavily. He said “I was trying to prevent any more deaths.”

Robb snorted and said “Of course you were Jon, and you nearly got yourself killed doing so. What would I have told Sansa, Arya and mother if you had died hmmm?”

Jon winced again and then noticed what Robb had said “Did you say Sansa? What have you heard from Riverrun?”

Robb smiled then and said “Sansa escaped from King’s Landing Jon. She was helped by two people claiming loyalty to our cause. She’s in Riverrun with mother and Arya now as we speak.”

Jon smiled then but then remembered something else “Have we had any word from the Crag about Theon?”

Robb’s smile disappeared then as he said solemnly “We received a raven a few days ago. Jeyne writes that he’s gotten better, but he’s still bad and is in and out of sleep.”

Jon nodded then asked “And news of the north, whats happening there?”

Robb looked solemn again as he replied “They still hold Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin. They tried raiding the Stoney Shore but a party led by Benfred Tallhart butchered the raiding party. They don’t seem to be making any moves for Winterfell, at least not yet, though we have received news that Balon Greyjoy has finally set sail from Pyke himself what he means to do we know not.”

Jon nodded again that was grim news in deed if the old Greyjoy had sailed from Pyke himself. He then asked a question that had been nagging at him for some time now “When we left the Crag I noticed that Lady Jeyne seemed to be rather well acquainted with you Robb. She seemed almost crying with sadness to see you go. What’s going on there?”

Robb had the good sense to look embarrassed as he spluttered “Nothing’s going on there. She, I, we.”

Jon burst out laughing “I’m only teasing you Robb. Jeez so long as you don’t marry her I don’t care what you do. We have to wed you to a Frey Girl, and Arya to Elmar Frey, though unless Old Walder wants to taste dragon fire he’ll agree to have Edmure marry one of his daughters instead of Arya marrying that Elmar fellow.”

Robb looked visibly relieved before saying “ Ah well let’s see what Old Walder has to say, I’m sure he’d be happy about that though the pickings would be slim. Roose Bolton married his daughter, Fat Walda before marching on south.”

They were silent for a little while after that then Jon cleared his throat and said “So what have you been doing since the battle?”

Robb replied “Well the Lannister host we fought here was the last host apart from the one at King’s Landing that the Lannisters have, and we destroyed it so the way to Casterly Rock is clear. Myself and the northern lords have been trying to discuss what to do. We received word that Stannis Baratheon attacked King’s Landing, but was crushed by the combined Lannister- Tyrell army, and now seems to be sitting on his behind at Dragonstone.”

Jon sighed “He’s still not willing to bend the knee?”

Robb shook his head “No he’s not, I think its that red woman of his. Rumour has it that she’s the one whispering in his ear, controlling his every moment. They say she’s his queen not Lady Selyse.”

Jon said nothing for a moment before saying “Well I suppose we should call a council meeting. I think it would be best if we took the Rock before Old Tywin decides to march again.”

* * *

**Tyrion**

_Lord Tywin was seated beneath the window, writing by the glow of an oil lamp. He raised his eyes at the sound of the latch. “Tyrion.” Calmly he laid his quill aside._

_“I’m pleased you remember me, my lord.” Tyrion released his grip on pod, leaned his weight on the stick, and waddled closer. Something is wrong, he knew at once._

_“Ser Bronn,” Lord Tywin said, “Podrick. Perhaps you had best wait without until we are done.”_

_The look Bronn gave the hand was little less than insolent; nonetheless, he bowed and withdrew, with Pod on his heels. The heavy door swung shut behind them, and Tyrion Lannister was alone with his father. Even with the windows of the solar shuttered against the night, the chill in the room palpable. What sort of lies has Cersei been telling him?_

_The Lord of Casterly Rock was as lean as a man twenty years younger, even handsome in his austere way. Stiff blond whiskers covered his cheeks, framing a stern face, a bald head, a hard mouth. About his throat he wore a chain of golden hands, the fingers of each clasping the wrist of the next. “That’s a handsome chain,” Tyrion said. Though it looked better on me._

_Lord Tywin ignored the sally. “You had best be seated. Is it wise for you to be out of your sickbed?”_

_“I am sick of my sickbed.” Tyrion knew how much his father despised weakness. He claimed the nearest chair. “Such pleasant chambers you have. Would you believe it, while I was dying, someone moved me to a dark little cell in Maegor’s?”_

_“The Red Keep is overcrowded with wedding guests. Once they depart, we will find you more suitable accommodations.”_

_“I rather liked these accommodations. Have you set a date for this great wedding?”_

_“Joffrey and Margaery shall marry on the first day of the new year, which as it happens is also the first day of the new century. The ceremony will herald a dawn of a new era.”_

_If King Jon lets us have it then yes, otherwise we won’t be alive to see it, any of us, thought Tyrion. “Oh bother, I fear I’ve made other plans for that day.”_

_“Did you come here just to complain of your bedchamber and make your lame japes? I have important letters to write.”_

_“Important letters. To be sure.”_

_“Some battles are won with swords and spears, others with quills and ravens. Spare me these coy reproaches, Tyrion. I visited your sickbed as often as Maester Ballabar would allow it, when you seemed like to die.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “Why did you dismiss Ballabar?”_

_Tyrion shrugged. “Maester Frenken is not so determined to keep me insensate.”_

_“Ballabar came to the city in Lord Redwyne’s retinue. A gifted healer, it’s said. It was kind of Cersei to ask him to look after you. She feared for your life.”_

_Feared that I might keep it you mean. “Doubtless that’s why she’s never once left my bedside.”_

_“Don’t be impertinent. Cersei has a royal wedding to plan, I am waging war, and you have been out of danger for at least a fortnight.”_

_Lord Tywin studied his son’s disfigured face, his pale green eyes unflinching. “Though the wound is ghastly enough, I’ll grant you. What madness possessed you?”_

_“The foe was at the gates with a battering ram. If Jaime had led the sortie, you’d call it valor.”_

_“Jaime would never be so foolish as to remove his helm in battle. I trust you killed the man who cut you?”_

_“Oh, the wretch is dead enough.” Though it had been Podrick Payne who’d killed Ser Mandon, shoving him into the river to drown beneath the weight of his armour. “A dead enemy is a joy forever,” Tyrion said blithely, though Ser Mandon was not his true enemy. The man had no reason to want him dead. He was only a catspaw, and I believe I know the cat. Though without proof Lord Tywin would never listen to such a charge. “Why are you here in the city father?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting Lord Stannis or Jon Targaryen or someone?” And the sooner the better._

_“Until Lord Redwyne brings his fleet up, we lack the ships to assail Dragonstone. It makes no matter. Stannis Baratheon’s sun set on the Blackwater. As for the Targaryen boy, he is still in the west; he defeated the host led by Ser Devan at Castamere.”_

_Tyrion was shocked by how calmly his father said that the host Ser Devan had been raising was the last amount of troops in the west, if they were defeated then the road to the Rock was open. “How are you so calm about this father?”_

_Lord Tywin made an expression that on any other man would have been called a smile “Because the boy was grievously wounded during the battle. Varys reports that his little birds say that the boy has not yet woken up, and even when he does will be in no condition to fight. His men grow restless both in the West and in Riverrun and Harrenhal.”_

_“That is good.” Said Tyrion._

_Lord Tywin replied “It should not concern you now. Your face is as pale as death and there is blood seeping through your bandages. Say what you want and take yourself back to bed.”_

_“What I want,” Tyrion began. “Pod tells me that Littlefinger’s been made Lord of Harrenhal.”_

_“An empty title so long as Bronze Yohn Royce holds the castle for Jon Targaryen, yet Lord Baelish was desirous of the honour. He did us good service in the matter of the Tyrell marriage. A Lannister pays his debts.”_

_The Tyrell marriage had been Tyrion’s notion, in point of fact, but it would seem churlish to try to claim that now. “That title may not be as empty as you think,” he warned. “Littlefinger does nothing without good reason. But be that as it may. You said something about paying debts I believe?”_

_“And you want your own reward is that it? Very well. What is it you would have of me? Lands, Castle, some office?”_

_“ A little bloody gratitude would make a nice start.”_

_Lord Tywin stared at him, unblinking “Mummers and monkeys require applause. So did Aerys for that matter. You did as you were commanded, though not to the best of your ability.”_

_“What do you mean?” Tyrion stuttered “I did all that was asked of me and more. I held the city for you. No mean feat with Joffrey and Cersei trying to undermine my every move!”_

_Lord Tywin stared at him for a moment before saying in a cold voice “You allowed Ser Barristan and Arya Stark to reach Riverrun; I was told by your sister that you did not even bother to find the girl.” Tyrion was about to complain and say that he had tried, but Lord Tywin ploughed on “And you allowed Sansa Stark to escape right under your nose. Tell me Tyrion why should I reward you now? The Targaryen boy has no reason to keep Jaime alive now with his cousins both back in his care.”_

_Tyrion was speechless, he knew not what to say nor could he think of a way to pin the blame on Cersei and make his father believe him, so he remained silent._

_Lord Tywin continued “Cersei has told me how you have turned the Tower of the Hand into your own whorehouse. I told you strictly no whores in the city, I will not have the Lannister name shamed by your sins or actions. I told you to hold the city till I came, and you allowed two of our hostages escape under your nose, or what is left of it. And you wish for me to reward you? No I say I will make you Master of Coin simply because we cannot have too many Tyrells on the small council but I shall give you nothing more. Now leave my sight and do not speak of anymore rewards.”_

* * *

_\---------------------_

**Sansa**

After the fear of being watched and followed in the Red Keep and King’s Landing, Sansa found Riverrun much nicer and much more peaceful. She supposed it helped that her mother and Arya were both here as well. When her mother had led her to the room she would be staying in, she had found Arya sitting down staring out of the window, Arya had turned around and looked wide eyed and shocked when she saw Sansa standing there, and it had been a long moment before the two of them had embraced, Arya running into Sansa’s arms.

Both of them had murmured apologies for wrongs done so many years ago, and then had laughed and talked with their mother for what seemed like days.  They spent the time talking about all they had seen and done since the last time they had seen each other, and Arya’s tale of how she had been standing on the statue of Baelor The Blessed and had watched father’s dying declaration and execution before Ser Barristan had pulled her from the statue and had shaved her hair and had then proceeded to ride out with her of the city, had enthralled Sansa and had made her see her sister in a new light after hearing of the ways in which Arya had had to learn how to survive in the wild before reaching Riverrun, it made her appreciate her sister all the more. It had also slightly restored Sansa’s faith in knights and that they were not all horrible and bad, Ser Barristan had truly lived up to his name the bold.

Of her own time in King’s Landing Sansa tried to avoid saying as much as possible. She did not truly wish to discuss the horror she had witnessed at Joffrey’s court in front of her little sister. Though their mother had seen the scars on her back and chest when she had helped Sansa get changed that first day, and Sansa had tearfully told her mother about it all. The beatings, the torment and the fear. Her mother had held her as she spoke and cried and at the end of it, had promised her that she would never let Sansa experience something like that ever again.

Of the war they spoke little, Sansa did not truly wish to have her time with her family ruined by constantly fearing for her family’s safety not after having just been reunited with some of them. Though she knew that the Ironborn had invaded the north from what Arya had told her late at night, and that some of the northern lords who were at Riverrun wished to see Theon executed to pay for his father’s crimes. Sansa did not know whether or not it was right that Theon should suffer for something that his father had chosen to do but she did not voice her opinion either for fear of reprisal from one of the northern lords. Lord Bolton especially scared her with his cold pale eyes and pale skin, something Arya told her came from his constant leeching of skin. Sansa also learnt from her mother that Jon, Robb, Theon and the rest of the northmen had invaded the West and had defeated a Lannister host at Oxcross, had taken Ashemark, and the Crag where Theon had been grievously wounded and Robb had picked up a small wound. The last anyone at Riverrun had heard of from Jon or Robb had been after the battle in the ruins of Castamere where they had gone up against the last remaining Lannister host in the Westerlands and destroyed them. When she had heard that news she had been happy for it meant that Jon and Robb were one step closer to returning to them, though that happiness had been slightly dented and replaced by worry when she had learnt that Jon had been seriously injured during the fight himself and had yet to wake up.

Sansa, Arya and their lady mother were in Sansa and Arya’s room sewing and talking when Sansa finally learned about what Jon had done.

“You know, how you and Jon were always very close?” Arya asked.

Sansa had to keep from blushing, _had her feelings for Jon always been that obvious?_ “Yes, what of it?” she asked.

She could hear the smile in Arya’s voice when she said “Well before he and Robb marched west. He asked Robb if he would give him permission to marry you.”

Sansa felt her heart do a back flip in joy, and had to work hard to keep her face composed and calm even though her heart was thundering in her ears “Oh that’s good. I do so hope to see him soon.”

She looked up to see both Arya and her mother grinning at her, Arya said “Oh it’ll be so nice Sansa. Jon’ll finally be part of the family and you’ll be queen.”

Before she could reply, Maester Vyman Riverrun’s maester appeared in the doorway. “Begging your pardons my ladies, but we have just received raven from the west. I thought you might like to read it.”

Sansa felt like she was looking at her body from the outside as she heard her mother say “Thank you maester Vyman.” And as her mother opened the letter and she and Arya looked over her mother’s shoulders to read what it had to say, she felt the thundering of her heart increase. Jon had woken up and was preparing to march on Casterly Rock. Once it had fallen he and Robb and the other northmen would return to Riverrun.

Jon was coming back; he was coming back to her. Oh she felt she could sing with happiness as she read the words again and again to make sure she had not misread them. Jon was coming back home soon, oh she couldn’t wait to see him, to hug him, to kiss him and tell him yes, a thousand times yes she would marry him of course she would.

* * *

**Bran**

Autumn had hit Winterfell and the north hard. The last harvests were being brought in around the kingdom, and the lords had all gathered in Winterfell for the harvest feast a few weeks past. Since Robb was still fighting in the south, Bran had had to play lord, he had done so and not really enjoyed it, and he would rather have spent the time riding on his horse, or playing with Rickon, or talking with the Reed Children. Though since the two Walders had come to Winterfell, Rickon had been spending less and less time with him, something which coupled with his already ingrained dislike of the two Walders made Bran like them even less.

He found some comfort in spending time with the Reed children, especially Meera. She always made him feel like he was older than his years and not just a boy of eight. Her brother Jojen on  the other hand seemed a bit odd to Bran, he seemed more curious in the wolf dreams that Bran had at night and of the dreams he had of the three eyed crow. He kept on insisting that Bran had to go north, past the wall to find the three eyed crow and find out the meaning behind his dreams. Bran had told Maester Luwin this and Luwin had told him that he would find nothing beyond the wall except snow and wildlings, and that perhaps Jojen had merely been teasing him.

When Bran had mentioned his dreams to Osha and what Jojen had said, Osha had told him that he did not want to go north of the wall, not now. When he had asked why she had said that there things coming to live beyond the wall and coming south that had not been seen for many thousands of years, and it would be best if he remained in Winterfell. Besides, Osha had said it was not likely that he would even be able to make it north of the wall with the Ironborn having captured Deepwood Motte and Moat Cailin both.

When news had reached Winterfell of the iron born raids of the Stony Shore, Ser Rodrik had dispatched Benfred Tallhart and his group the Wild Hares to deal with them. They had arrived at Winterfell to announce their success in killing all of the raiders on the Stony Shore and had even brought a man called Aeron back with them. The man Bran had learnt was brother to Theon’s father Balon, and Theon’s uncle. Other than that the man had refused to say much else and was being held in a cell deep within Winterfell.

Ser Rodrik had then amassed a host of some 1000 men to march south and rid Moat Cailin of the Ironborn that held it, along the way Maester Luwin had told him that Ser Rodrik would be joined by men from White Harbour and men from the Twins who would attack the Moat from the south, to honour their oaths to Robb and Jon, Luwin said. To gain glory for House Frey big Walder said. Bran cared not all he knew was that he wished he could go with Ser Rodrik and fight. He wondered what would happen to Theon though, once news of the Ironborn invasion of the north reached Jon and Robb wherever they were now. Bran knew Theon had been brought to Winterfell as a hostage for his father’s good behaviour by Bran’s father Lord Eddard. Lord Eddard had explained to Bran when he had been six that Theon’s  life depended on Balon’s good behaviour and should Balon ever decided to rebel again, Theon’s life would be forfeit.

Bran wondered though whether or not his life would still be forfeit now that father was dead and it was Robb who was Lord of Winterfell and Jon who had declared himself King. Both had grown up with Theon, and Theon had become a part of the Stark family so Bran did not truly understand why Theon should have to pay the price for his father’s sins. When he had asked Maester Luwin this, Luwin had merely replied that “Balon Greyjoy knew what he was agreeing to when he sent Theon with your Lord Father. Theon knew what would happen to him should his father ever rebel again. It is up to Lord Robb and his Grace King Jon now what happens to Theon.”

Bran still believed that because Robb and Jon had rebelled against the Iron Throne, and Jon had declared himself King, they couldn’t really execute Theon for his father’s own rebellion. And besides they had grown up with Theon, and Theon had fought beside them throughout the war so surely they could not just ignore all of that to simple execute him for something his father had done?

Bran’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knocking at the door, calling for whoever it was to come in Bran found himself looking at Hodor. The big stable boy bent down to help Bran up and then carried him to his lord father’s solar, where he found Maester Luwin waiting for him with a anxious look on his face. Wondering what the problem could be Bran asked “What’s the matter Maester Luwin, is it news of Robb and Jon or my mother? Has something happened to them?”

Luwin shook his head and said “No child nothing like that. We received two ravens just now. The first one came from Riverrun. Your mother writes that Lady Sansa and Lady Arya have arrived safely there and are both well and healthy.”

Bran smiled then and was about to say something when Luwin continued “Pardons my lord but the second letter was from Lord Robb, it would appear that his Grace King Jon was seriously wounded fighting in the Westerlands and has only just woken up.”

Bran did not know what the matter was then both letters contained good news but before he could ask, Luwin continued “That is not what troubles me though child. Today some of the watchers on the walls saw banners approaching Winterfell a mile away.”

“Banners?” Bran asked “Whose banners?”

Luwin replied “Greyjoy Banners, the crowned Kraken the sigil Balon Greyjoy has taken as his own, as King of the Iron Islands and the north. He has marched on Winterfell and means to lay siege to us.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Catch The Lion In Dragon's Teeth

**Jon**

Hours turned into days, which turned into weeks which turned into a month. That was how long they spent in the ruins of Castamere debating where and how to take Casterly Rock. Had it been any other fortress, Jon knew that the northmen would have started grumbling about this, that and the other, but considering they were talking about storming and taking Casterly Rock which in its entire existence had never fallen, he knew that they appreciated the need for a detailed plan of action. It had become quite clear early on though, that because of the severity of the wounds he had sustained fighting Devan Lannister, Jon would not be able to lead the men as they attacked Casterly Rock, loath though he was to admit it, even walking straight was hard enough to do, let alone mount a horse and wield a sword. So it had been agreed that Robb would lead the 4000 northmen that included Lords Karstark, Umber and Glover as well as Lady Mormont to attack Casterly Rock.

As to who would nullify the threat of the city watch of Lannisport the lords had debated over this issue for many a day before it was eventually decided that Randyll Tarly’s host of men could be put to good use there. So Jon had written to Riverrun informing Lord Tarly that his services were needed and the man had come two weeks after the letter had been sent. He had arrived from Riverrun with his 20,000 men who contained men from Houses Appleton, Ambrose, Ashford, Butterwell, Caswell, Crane and Cuy. All of those houses in Tarly’s army according to Lord Tarly himself contained members or Lords who had grown to despise Mace Tyrell’s plotting and scheming and wished to renew their loyalty to the Targaryen cause, of which Jon was the sole heir. When Lord Tarly had arrived he had also brought news from Riverrun and the battles in the rest of Westeros he had reported that Mace Tyrell had been sent by Tywin Lannister from the city with a host of 60,000 men to assail the Riverlands. Mace Tyrell according to Lord Tarly in all his ineffectual leadership had decided to split his host in two. He led one host that last Lord Tarly had heard was laying siege to Harrenhal. The other host was being led by Lord Rowan and last Lord Tarly had heard Lord Bolton had marched out with a host of 15,000 men to deal with Lord Rowan’s host at the Trident.

Jon found himself sat in the command tent in the ruins of Castamere going over the last minute details of the attack on Casterly Rock and Lannisport, before the men were due to head out tomorrow morning leaving Jon and 1000 men behind. Jon spoke “ So if Lord Stark leads his host directly south from Castamere and then attacks the Rock from the North that should allow you Lord Tarly to lead your men round the Rock and his Lannisport from the east correct?”

Lord Tarly nodded and said “That is right Your Grace. If our forces split at Oxcross we should be more than able to spring a surprise on the Lannisters left in the city.”

“Good.” Jon said. “Lord Tarly I want you to put their ships to the torch, no one leaves the city. Any who try to you put to the sword. Women and children are to be allowed to live. Is that understood?” Jon would not do a Tywin Lannister, he would deal with the Lannisters but the innocents would live.

Lord Tarly nodded. “Crystal clear Your Grace.”

Robb spoke next “Will Serrax be coming with us, Your Grace?”

In the month that they had spent in Castamere debating and creating strategies Serrax Jon’s black dragon had grown from being the size of a full grown aurochs to being the size of two full grown mammoths, and many of the lords in Jon’s councils had debated whether or not it would be prudent to bring Serrax without Jon either to persuade Casterly Rock to peacefully yield, or to allow him to go to Lannisport where he could burn the Lannister’s fleet, and render any escape attempts useless. Till then Jon had remained silent on the issue. He knew that he could control what Serrax did even from as great distance as Lannisport, for he had been able to navigate the dragon’s flights when he went hunting in the mountains, so as not to draw too much attention to himself. He was just a bit wary of allowing the dragon out of his sight for too long in case he could not help make sure Serrax did not try and kill any allies of theirs.

Ser Barristan broke the silence and said “Your Grace if I may speak?”

Jon nodded.

Ser Barristan continued “Whilst it might be prudent to allow Serrax to fly with Lord Tarly to Lannisport as it would make it much easier to burn down the Lannisters fleet. Perhaps it would be wiser to keep Serrax here with you, Your Grace. As not many people have seen or heard of Serrax and as such, no information is like to have reached King’s Landing. I would argue that it would be better to keep Serrax here with you, Your Grace, and keep him as your secret weapon until you march on King’s Landing or meet Tywin Lannister in the field yourself.”

There was a chorus of agreement once Ser Barristan had finished speaking, as all the Lords seemed to together as one voice how much wiser it would be to keep Serrax here where Jon could control him and the Lannisters would not learn of his presence. It was if they had never even mentioned bringing Serrax with them in the first place.

Eventually Jon raised his hand and silence fell around the tent. He took a breath and then spoke. “Serrax shall remain here with me Lord Stark. But once you have taken the Rock and Lannisport is ours, write to me and I shall come. Then the whole of the West can see the might of the dragon and wolf. If that is all my lords, I would request your leave, it has been a long and tiring day and I do so wish to sleep.”

At that all the lords except Robb left the tent and made their way back to their own respective tents. Once the last lord had left, Jon slumped in his chair and sighed. “I thought they’d never leave.”

Robb chuckled at that and said “I don’t know how you put up with all their constant yammering Jon. If I were King I’d be half tempted to have Greywind take their fingers off.”

Jon laughed at that and then said “Where are Greywind and Ghost? Still hunting?”

Robb nodded and said “It’s good that you’re staying here Jon. You look like death. I still don’t know what you were thinking charging head on into that assault. Sansa will kill me if you die before you two get married.”

Jon laughed and then said “Speaking of Sansa, have there been any more letters from Riverrun or from Winterfell?”

Robb shook his head and said “No apart from the letter Lord Tarly gave you there has been nothing from either Riverrun nor Winterfell.”

Jon nodded and then with Robb and Ser Barristan’s help got up from his chair and walked back to his tent. At the entrance he dismissed Robb saying “Go get some rest Stark. If I look like death, I’d hate to say what you look like. Go get some rest and I’ll see you before you head off.”

Robb laughed and headed off.

Jon turned to Ser Barristan then and said “Would you care for a drink Ser Barristan?”

Ser Barristan seemed to hesitate as if having a drink with his King and standing outside on guard in the freezing cold was a conflicting choice, before he eventually said “Of course Your Grace.”

They entered Jon’s tent, and sat down in two of the chairs facing the entrance, Jon poured them both a glass of wine before speaking. He asked “What do you think of the plan Ser Barristan is it a good one?”

Ser Barristan seemed to be considering for a moment before he answered. “I believe the plan is wise Your Grace. With the Lannisters unable to call upon anymore men in the West and their bannermen unwilling to fight for them, or being stuck in King’s Landing, the plan is as sound a plan as any could be for taking Casterly Rock. As for the attack on Lannisport that too is a good plan, for it will distract the city watch and prevent them from making for the Rock once the castellan sounds the alarm.”

Jon nodded and after taking a drink said “And do you trust Lord Tarly and his men to stay loyal?”

Ser Barristan said nothing for a moment before he said “I do. Your Grace. Had it been Mace Tyrell I would have cautioned you against trusting the purity of his motives, the man has always been far too ambitious. Lord Tarly has more honour and will stay with you until the bitter end now that he has sworn himself to your cause.”

Jon nodded and then said “But he shall be wanting a reward once the fighting is done and assuming we are successful in taking King’s Landing. I presume he shall want me to make him Warden of the South. That could mean stripping Highgarden from the Tyrells, which could cause its own problems.”

Ser Barristan was silent for a moment before he spoke. “Perhaps Your Grace could give Lord Tarly Brightwater Keep as well as allowing him to remain in Horn Hill, and give him the riches from Highgarden.”

Jon nodded and then said “It grows late Ser Barristan. I find myself quite tired. I shall see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Ser Barristan rose and bid Jon a goodnight before he left the tent to stand guard outside. Jon rose from his chair and changed into his sleeping breeches and a light shirt before getting into bed. As he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep his thoughts were of Sansa, and when he would see her again.

* * *

**Danaerys**

_Across the still blue water came the slow steady beat of drums and the soft swish of oars from the galleys. The great cog groaned in their wake, the heavy lines stretched taut between. Balerion’s sails hung limp, drooping forlorn from the masts. Yet even so, as she stood upon the forecastle watching her dragons chase each other across a cloudless blue sky, Danaerys Targaryen was as happy as she could ever remember being._

_Her Dothraki called the sea the poison water, distrusting any liquid that their horses could not drink. On the day the three ships had lifted anchor at Qarth, you would have thought they were sailing to hell instead of Pentos. Her brave young bloodriders had stared off at the dwindling coastline with huge white eyes, each three determined to show no fear before the other two, while her handmaids Irri and Jhiqui clutched the rail desperately and retched over the side at every little swell. The rest of Dany’s tiny Khalasar remained below decks, preferring the company of their nervous horses to the terrifying landless world about the ships. When a sudden squall had enveloped them six days into the voyage, she heard them through the hatches the horses kicking and screaming, the riders praying in thin quavery voices each time Balerion heaved or swayed._

_No squall could frighten Dany, though. Danaerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside a storm so fierce that it ripped gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father’s fleet to kindling._

_The narrow sea was often stormy, and Dany had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free city to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives. She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel  small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she’d watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor. But when she had told her brother, Viserys had twisted her hair until she cried. “You are blood of the dragon,” he had screamed at her. “A dragon not some smelly fish.”_

_He was a fool about that, and so much else, Dany thought. If the rumours I heard in Qarth are even half true, he was not the rightful king, no more than I am the rightful queen._

_After the House of the Undying had been reduced to ash by Viserion and Rhaegal, Danaerys had heard rumours at the docks of Qarth that a Targaryen had conquered half of Westeros. At first she had thought that perhaps she had misheard, for after Viserys’ death she was the last of her family, the last of the dragons. But then on the docks of Qarth sailors from Westeros spoke of a Targaryen by the name of Jon, who claimed to be the son of her brother Rhaegar, and Lyanna Stark the girl who had started a war. The man claimed that the boy had taken the Westerlands and had the North and the Riverlands by right of his relations. Dany had asked Ser Jorah if this boy who called himself Targaryen could truly be her nephew. Ser Jorah had merely shrugged and said that no one truly knew what had happened between Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark. The usurper was wont to say that Lyanna had been kidnapped and raped by Dany’s brother, but both Dany and Ser Jorah had a hard time believing that, and Ser Jorah had gone onto describe the mysterious set of events that had led to Eddard Stark emerging from the war with his sister’s body and a bastard son, and three of the Kingsguard dead. He had said that perhaps it would make sense for the Kingsguard to be at the Tower where Lord Stark had found them if they had been guarding whom they thought to be the rightful king. Dany had then said that if this was true and this Jon was then her nephew and her rightful king. Ser Jorah had cautioned her and said that until they got to Westeros she would be best waiting to see what happened if this boy was truly a dragon or not._

_Which was why they were sailing toward Pentos now. Dany hoped to gain some answers from Magister Illyrio as to whether the boy calling himself Rhaegar’s son was truly his son, or whether he was simply playing everyone false, and using Lord Eddard’s dying confession as an excuse. Ser Jorah had warned her not to put too much stock by Lord Stark’s confession saying that any man who made that sort of a confession with a sword hanging above their neck had most likely been paid to do such a thing._

_Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Captain Groleo coughing next to her. Dany turned her head to look at the captain, an old Pentoshi sailor who had told her that he had been sent by Magister Illyrio to help her back to Pentos. Groleo had initially been scared of her dragons as had most of his crew, but the time they had spent on board the boat had made them more used to the dragons and even given them a faint sense of pride whenever they spoke._

_Captain Groleo spoke “We shall be arriving in Pentos soon. Your Grace.”_

_Dany smiled at the captain and said “That is good Captain. I fear my Khalasar is growing weary of travelling by boat.”_

_Groleo merely nodded._

_Dany continued “ I shall not forget the service you have done for me when I come to the Iron Throne Captain. You shall be well rewarded.”_

_Groleo bowed and said “It was an honour Your Grace.”_

_Yes thought Dany, now let us see what Illyrio Mopatis wishes to see and what he wants, or he may yet learn what it is to wake the dragon._

* * *

_\-------------_

**Randyll**

Lannisport glistened like a beacon from down below, from where Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill sat atop his horse. His son Dickon was mounted on a horse next to him and gasped at the sight of the harbour city. “That’s Lannisport?! It looks like it’s made of gold!” Tarly heard Jon Connington snort to his left, Connington had all but begged to come with Tarly when he had marched from Riverrun to the west on King Jon’s orders. The man clearly wished to see his Prince Rhaegar’s son, Randyll too had been curious to see what his king looked like, and found him to look like a younger version of Eddard Stark, like Eddard Stark had looked when he had come to lift the siege of Storm’s End all those years ago. He even carried himself the same way Eddard Stark had though he spoke in an iron tone that reminded Randyll of the few times he had ever met Prince Rhaegar. Yes though Randyll, King Jon was certainly a strong warrior and would make a good king, a king worth fighting and dying for. Something neither Renly nor Joffrey would have been. Renly because the boy was a summer knight and Joffrey because the boy’s mother would never let him leave from behind her skirts. It was said in Riverrun that when Stannis Baratheon’s fleet had landed in King’s Landing Joffrey had fled back to the safety of the castle, like a babe. Mace was a fool for ever thinking that the Lannisters would make good allies, and now he would be about to pay the price.

Randyll turned to his son and said “Aye the Lannisters like to show off their extravagance. Worry not though. For soon it shall all be ours, and King Jon’s. Sound the horn Derryk. His squire Derryk Appleton was a good lad and a good soldier but a bit slow on the up, but he relished blowing that horn of his and when he obligingly blew it this time, Randyll knew that the upcoming battle would be one that the singers would sing off for years to come. Drawing his sword from its scabbard he lifted it into the air and shouted for all his men to hear “Today we shall destroy the lions once and for all let us win some glory my men!” The men’s answering cheer was so loud, birds began to fly out and chirp in protest from the nearby trees. Randyll turned his horse and spurred it down the hill, Dickon and Lord Connington not far behind him.

As the walls of Lannisport came into view Randyll shouted “Raise the battering rams.” He saw through the slit of his helm as the men raised the battering rams and charged at the doors to the city and watched as they began to creak on their hinges. The Lannister city watch were quick to respond firing arrows off in ones and twos, some struck their targets and brought men down, others missed by near inches. Randyll’s own archers fired back and had the same amount of success.  The cracking near the front of the army told Randyll that the gates were open, Lannisport was now theirs for the taking, turning to Dickon he said “Stay close son and if it seems to be going bad retreat and regroup.” Randyll saw his son nod, and then led the charge through the gates.

Randyll cuts through the throats of several men of the Lannisport city watch, hacking and slashing and watching as they crumple to the ground, and their lifeless forms get trampled on by the horses of his men. The streets are deserted apart from the city watch, and he thinks that perhaps the Lannisport Lannisters are less cold hearted or at least have more sense than their cousins, for he cannot imagine Lord Tywin ever consenting to allowing citizens to remain indoors whilst the enemy raided their town. But perhaps that will be their undoing, he thinks as he cuts his way through yet another batch of City watchmen, Dickon close behind him hacking and slashing and brining men down with equal ease, it would make Randyll proud were he not focussing so fiercely on getting to the port to burn the ships.

“The way to the port is clear my Lord!” Ser Torrance Ashford said, a big burly man and heir to House Ashford. Randyll nodded and then spurred his horse on cutting down any man wearing the Lannister red that came within his sights. The harbour of Lannisport was as Randyll remembered it from the Greyjoy Rebellion, grand and flamboyant. There were lions emblazoned on all the ships and all the wood and poles and such. Randyll had he been a flamboyant man would have felt sad when he said the words to have the entire fleet of ships burnt, but he was not and he moved his horse back a bit to allow the flames to completely engulf the ships and the water, and watched as the water became orange as flames danced on the Sunset Sea.

Once the last ship in the port had burnt and been reduced to ash, Randyll led his men toward the castle of Lannisport, where he found the gates thrown open and saw that some of his men had already entered the keep and had taken some of the plunder that was up for grabs. Lord Harmond Crane awaited him in the main courtyard and so Randyll spurred his horse on past his men and their plundering, though he left Dickon to enjoy some of the spoils of their successful take of the city.

He rode into the main courtyard and found Lord Harmond standing in front of three blond haired men who could only be the Lannisport Lannisters. As confirmed when Lord Harmond said “My Lord my I present to you, Lord Loren Lannister and his sons Tytos and Tywin.”

The three men kneeled with their heads held high and with a defiant glint in their eyes. “Will you surrender the castle peacefully or do I need to take your heads?” Randyll asked though he already suspected what the answer would be.

Lord Loren replied “We shall never bend to a dragon or a wolf. Take our heads and be done with it traitor.”

Randyll sighed and said “Very well then. Ser Hyle if you will.” Randyll remained a horse as he watched Ser Hyle Hunt bring the sword down on the three Lannisport Lannisters heads and watched as their heads role from their bodies to the floor. Once Ser Hyle had sheathed his sword Randyll said “Mount their heads on the walls, and tell those who wish it that if they bend the knee and accept King Jon as their king, they will be spared those who don’t will join these three as heads on the walls.”

* * *

**Robb**

Casterly Rock was just as imposing a castle as Robb had heard about during his lessons with Jon and Theon back in Winterfell. It made him feel slightly sad that the one time that he would be able to actually look at the Rock, he was there to capture it and possibly put the garrison to the sword. He turned to Torrhen Karstark and asked him “How many men did our source say make up the garrison of Casterly Rock?”

Torrhen replied “ Fifty my Lord.”

“And they have heard our terms?” Robb asked. Before he had left Jon had told him that before he attacked he was to offer terms, if they surrendered peacefully then they would be spared if not then they would die.

Torrhen replied “Aye my lord.”

“They refused to submit?” Robb asked though he already knew the answer.

“Aye.” Was all Torrhen said.

Robb sighed. “Very well then let us end this.” He drew Ice from its scabbard, it had been given to him by Lord Tarly when the man had come to Castamere all those weeks ago, and shouted loud and clear “Men of the north. Let us end this. For the north and King Jon.” They answered with a roaring cheer and then they charged up the mountain toward Casterly Rock.

Before the gates of the castle were broken open by the rams they had brought, they lost many a man to the arrows fired from the walls. The northern archers managed to bring down roughly twenty men by the time the gate broke open and they poured into the main courtyard of the Rock. As Robb hacked and slashed his way through the main courtyard and towards the great hall where he had been told that some more Lannister men were, he thought about all the blood that had been shed because of the Lannisters and felt justified and felt that justice was finally being given to them. When the Rock fell as it would soon do, they would know that they had messed with the wrong family when they removed Robb’s father’s head from his body.

Robb hacked and slashed his way through the doors leading into the Great Hall and when he entered he found that the fighting seemed to have already entered the great hall. He saw Rickard Karstark fighting a big burly man with golden hair who appeared to be Damion Lannister, the castellan of the Rock. He saw Torrhen Karstark battling a boy no older than himself, and watched rooted to the spot as Torrhen shoved his sword through the boy’s chest and then lopped his head off.  Lord Karstark had managed to kill Damion Lannister, shoving his sword through the man’s armour with such force than, the sword was stuck inside of Lannister’s chest and only came out due to the force of Lannister’s fall to the ground.

Another golden haired and green eyed man in red armour advanced toward Robb with his sword raised. Robb managed to bring Ice down in time to block the Lannister man’s swing, but soon found himself swinging at the man as well, the sound of steel on steel reverberated around the hall, and soon both men were bloody and tired. But still they fought, for every swing of the sword that was blocked by sword or shield, another two blows landed on the other’s armour. This continued for a long moment before Robb spied an opening between the man’s neck and chest, and feinted to his right in order to draw the man forward, when the man did so Robb quickly kicked him in the shins and when the man’s head bent with pain he quickly slashed his sword to the left and watched as the man’s head split from his body and fell to the floor.

As the Lannister man’s body fell to the ground to join his head at Robb’s feet, Robb looked around the hall Lord Karstark and Torrhen were no longer fighting and instead were standing breathing heavily, Robb turned when he heard the door to the hall open, and turning around he saw Smalljon Umber walking in holding several people- both girls and boys- in chains as he pushed them to the floor he said “Lannister prisoners my lord, found them in the armoury hiding.”

Robb nodded his thanks and then looked at the prisoners. There were six Lannisters in front of him one a babe at the breast, one was a woman of middle age, and the one boy Robb thought he had seen before though he could not place where. As he looked at them, they looked at him in the eyes all except the babe stared at him defiantly; he took a deep breath and said “You are my prisoners now. Casterly Rock belongs to his grace King Jon Targaryen. You have a choice, you can surrender now and swear fealty to King Jon and you shall be spared. If you do not do this then you will either be sent to your death or to the Silent Sisters,” he looked at the boy and said “Or the night’s watch as the case may be. It is your choice.”

The middle aged woman spoke first “I believe I speak for all of us here my lord when I say that there is no point for further bloodshed, we shall surrender so long as you treat us acceptably.”

The boy who Robb thought he remembered burst out then saying “How can you do this mother. How can you surrender to these northern savages, when they still have Willem?”

 _Ah so that’s where I’ve seen him before, this is Martyn Lannister, Willem’s twin._ Robb thought.

The boy’s mother replied “Stop it Martyn! They have won, we won’t see Willem again if you continue to resist.”

Martyn Lannister remained defiant though and looked at Robb and sneered. “Ha I shall never bow to a northern savage be he Stark or Targaryen. You might as well kill me now Stark for I shall never bend to your king. Joffrey is the only King in the realm.”

Robb sighed and looked at the boy’s mother she merely looked straight ahead, though there were tears forming in her eyes. Robb nodded then and said “Very well then, if that is your wish. I shall execute you myself. Though away from the women. Your sister does not need to see this.”

Martyn Lannister sneered some more as Torrhen and Robin Flint carried him outside back to the main courtyard. As he walked past the boy’s mother Robb stopped and said “I am sorry my lady.”

She did not speak for a moment but then said “Give my son a clean death Lord Stark. He deserves that much.”

Robb nodded and then walked out the doors and stood to the side of Martyn Lannister and spoke in a clear voice. “I Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North in the name of his Grace King Jon Targaryen first of his name, King of the Andals, First men and the Rhoynar. Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. Do hereby sentence you Martyn Lannister to death. Do you have any last words.”

Martyn Lannister said nothing for a moment before he said “Long Live King Joffrey the one true king!”

Robb unsheathed Ice, which was still covered in blood, raised it high above his head and then swung it down in one big arc. Martyn Lannister’s head fell from his body in one stroke and rolled to the floor. After it was done Robb had his men move the body and the head to somewhere where it could not be seen and then found the castle’s maester and told him “Send a raven to Castamere, tell King Jon that the Rock is his and awaits his pleasure.”

The maester nodded and walked off to send the letter.

Two weeks later Robb was stood in the main courtyard of the Rock as he saw a big black shadow block out the sun, and as the shadow came closer to the ground he realised that it was Serrax, and in his teeth he held Ghost by the scruff of the neck, and on his back was Jon his crown glittering in the sunlight. Jon got down from his dragon and walked with Ghost toward Robb, they embraced and though Robb could tell Jon was still in some pain by the way he winced when they broke apart.

Robb then got to one knee and said in a formal voice. “Your Grace, you asked me to take the Rock and Lannisport. I have done as commanded. Casterly Rock and the Westerlands are yours, Your Grace.”

Jon replied “Rise Lord Stark, and know that I am proud of what you have done and thank you for doing so. I would see the hall and speak with the prisoners then we may rest and prepare for our ride to Riverrun.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Black Hole Sun, With A Hint Of Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this one contains a Jon/ Sansa reunion. And Serrax is as big as Drogon was in A Dance of Dragons.

**Tyrion**

Since his father had assumed the role of Hand of the King, the city of King’s Landing had seen some recovery from the poverty and despair that had inflicted it during Tyrion’s short reign. Tyrion knew from what Bronn had told him that many of the citizens of the city blamed their hard times on the Lannisters and Joffrey, and thought that the Tyrells were sent by the Seven to bring holiness back to a city that had forgotten it. Tyrion of course thought this the height of hypocrisy; it was as if the small folk of the city had completely erased from their memories the fact that it had Lord Tyrell and his reachmen that had prevented food from coming into the city in the first place.

Then again he supposed that since they had taken up with the Lannisters they had done everything they possibly could to win the city’s hearts and minds; distributing food to the common folk in the name of Margaery Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell herself often went on long walks around the city speaking to the small folk and more of than not winning their hearts. It was all rather infuriating for Tyrion, for though others especially his sweet sister might claim otherwise, it was because of him and his thinking that the city had not fallen to Stannis Baratheon during the Battle of the Blackwater, the presence of their father and the Tyrell’s armies had just been an added bonus. There was one small thing that Tyrion could take delight in and it was that when the Tyrells had arrived in the city after the battle to be presented before the court, they had arrived without Lord Tarly and 20,000 men. Mace Tyrell had had to rather sheepishly explain to Joffrey that Lord Tarly had been sent to take Riverrun in Joffrey’s name but had defected and had gone over to Jon Targaryen. That news had stunned half the court into silence, Lord Tarly was one of –if not- the best battle commanders and warriors in the whole of Westeros and also had a firm sense of duty and honour so the fact that he had deserted the Tyrells was a huge shock. At least it had been until Tyrion had thought about it for a long time afterwards. Lord Tarly had been the one to inflict the only defeat on Robert Baratheon’s forces during Robert’s Rebellion, at Ashford though Mace Tyrell took the credit for it. And during the Greyjoy Rebellion it had been a host led by Lord Tarly that had come to the rescue of Lannisport when Victarion Greyjoy had put it to the torch, though once again Mace Tyrell took credit for that. Tyrion believed though he had not said this out loud, that Lord Tarly had joined Jon Targaryen’s side in the hopes of finally getting some sort of recognition for his achievements, and potentially the wardenship of the south should the boy come out the winner at the end of this all.

As he entered the small council chamber however, Tyrion tried to drive all other thoughts from his mind apart from one, he was curious as to why his father had called this small council meeting and why he had called for it to be held during the middle of the night. As he entered the room, he saw that Lord Tywin sat at the head of the table resplendent in Lannister crimson, Cersei sat to his right also looking resplendent in Lannister Crimson. Grand Maester Pycelle was doing his best not to fall asleep where he sat, though he was failing miserably if the dropping of his head every five seconds was any indication, and Varys sat in a chair next to the vacant chair to Lord Tywin’s left dressed in lavender robes and smelling of a vague perfume that Tyrion with half his nose gone could not place.  Tyrion sat down in the empty chair to his father’s left hand side and waited for Lord Tywin to begin speaking.

After a moment of silence, Lord Tywin began. “Thank you all for coming at this late hour. I would not have called the council together if the need was not urgent. Cersei where is Joffrey? As King he should be here.”

Tyrion watched with some satisfaction as Cersei squirmed uncomfortably under their father’s gaze before she said “I thought it best that Joff sleep, father. He is young and should not be troubled by some of the more trivial matters of ruling.”

Tyrion inwardly cringes at Cersei’s words, and Lord Tywin gives his daughter a deathly cold stare that looks all the more terrifying due to the flickering of the candles in the chamber. When he speaks Lord Tywin’s voice is as hard as iron and as cold as the ice on the wall. “Trivial matters? You think I would have called this council to meet in the dead of the night if the matters I wished to discuss were trivial? Are you such a foolish woman Cersei? No, send one of the Kingsguard to get Joffrey now, and have them be quick about it.”

Cersei looks shameful as she gets up out of her chair and walks to the door, where Ser Meryn Trant stands guard, Tyrion hears as she asks for him to go and wake Joffrey and bring him to the small council chamber immediately. Tyrion looks around the room and notices that his uncle Ser Kevan is not present, something that is beyond passing odd. In every small council session that Lord Tywin has called since he has been in the city, Ser Kevan had always been present. Tyrion thinks to ask his father where his uncle is but before he can, Cersei has sat herself down and Lord Tywin speaks once more. “Whilst we wait for Joffrey to come here, I shall tell you how the war goes.”

Tyrion leaned forward as did Cersei. Lord Tywin continued. “Mathis Rowan and his host of men fought a bloody battle with 15,000 men led by Lord Tully and Lord Bolton. Tully and Bolton were soundly beaten but managed to escape back to Riverrun with 6,000 men. Lord Rowan assures me his losses were minimal, and is camped on Trident waiting for further instruction.”

Cersei blurts out “Why did Lord Rowan not give chase to Tully and Bolton, why did he let them get away so that they could continue to plague us?”

Tyrion feels like slapping Cersei how could she be so blind as to not see why Lord Rowan let them go. Lord Tywin looks at Cersei coldly before replying “Because I ordered him not to give chase. We are trying to win a war here Cersei, we are not playing at jousting. Lord Rowan allowed them to live and flee back to Riverrun, to dishearten their men and show them that we are not finished. As they wait for our next move they will be more anxious and may make more of a rash decision that could be their downfall.”

Lord Tywin stopped speaking for a moment then continued. “Lord Tyrell continues that foolish siege of Harrenhal. His sons Ser Garlan and Ser Loras cut off the food supplies coming to Harrenhal from either Riverrun or the Vale. Mace Tyrell expects to starve the Lord Royce into submission, but the man is a fool if he expects a man from the Vale to yield. Lord Royce may not be Stannis Baratheon that is true, but the man will never bend so long as Jon Targaryen lives and Lysa Arryn does not order him otherwise. We shall need Lord Baelish to marry Lysa Arryn soon if we are to end this foolishness once and for all. Pycelle.” Pycelle had been dosing off, but shot awake when he heard his name being said. Lord Tywin looked unimpressed with the old maester and continued “Write to Lord Baelish and tell him that he is to marry Lysa Arryn the minute he sets foot in the Eyrie, I want to hear news of their marriage before Joffrey is wed. Make it clear to him that we gave him Harrenhal, we can easily take it away as well as his life.”

Pycelle nodded. “It shall be done, my lord.”

Just as Lord Tywin was about to continue speaking, the door to the council chamber opened and Joffrey walked in still dressed in his sleeping outfit, and looking rather grumpy and sullen. But in front of Lord Tywin the boy dared not complain, lest he be thought weak and unfit to rule. Lord Tywin glanced at Joffrey before speaking once more, “Of Stannis Baratheon we have had little to no news, Varys what have your little birds been telling you?”

Tyrion heard Varys swallow beside him before he spoke. “My little birds report that Stannis Baratheon sits and broods on Dragonstone. He lost half his men after the battle of Blackwater; they either deserted completely and returned to their own holdings or joined Jon Targaryen. He has only 1000 men with him on the island and even fewer ships than he had at the end of the battle. It is said that the Lyseni Sellsail he hired for the battle has abandoned him for richer pickings.”

Joffrey was surprisingly quiet after Varys had finished speaking. Tyrion had expected his nephew to make some foolish comment about sailing and attacking Dragonstone at once. Perhaps Lord Tywin’s presence and the lateness of the hour prevented his nephew from making such comments.

Lord Tywin spoke again and said “Then Stannis Baratheon is done and shall not trouble us again. Once Lord Redwyne has seen to his ships, we shall take Dragonstone and kill Stannis Baratheon and that red woman of his.” Lord Tywin was silent for a moment before he continued. “There is other news as well. This is more grievous than expected. Casterly Rock and Lannisport have fallen to the Targaryen boy.”

Tyrion and the rest of the small council were struck into a shocked silence. The Rock had fallen, how that was possible, it had never fallen. Cersei was the first to speak “How?”

Lord Tywin looked at her as he spoke “It appears that the Targaryen boy was not so badly injured fighting at Castamere that he could not plan an assault. Lord Tarly navigated around Oxcross and struck Lannisport from the east, and put the city watch to the sword and the fleet to the torch. Robb Stark led his northmen up Lann’s Mountain and stormed the walls and put the garrison to the sword.” Lord Tywin’s voice sounded pained as he spoke though his face gave away none of his emotions.

There was silence for a few more minutes, before Tyrion spoke and asked “What of our losses father, there were Lannisters in the Rock, how many of them died?”

Lord Tywin was still looking at Cersei as he replied “Ser Damion, Lucion, Red Walder Frey and Martyn Lannister were killed. Put to the sword for refusing to surrender.”

Tyrion felt his heart plummet as he heard his father’s words, Martyn had been no older than Robb Stark himself, he felt sorrow bloom in his chest for his uncle Kevan, one son dead, the other a captive in Riverrun. Tyrion dreaded what the answer to his next question would be but felt compelled to ask. “And what of Uncle Emmon and Aunt Genna and Aunt Dorna. What of the girls?”

Tywin still looked at Cersei as he spoke, though his voice sounded deeply pained “Taken prisoner, held hostage.”

Finally Joffrey spoke, and he sounded angry. “And why are you still here Grandfather? Why have you not ridden out of the city to deal with this Targaryen bastard? Why are you here behind the city walls, hiding like a craven just like you did during my father’s rebellion? If you shall not march out and face this bastard then I will.”

Lord Tywin turned to look at the king, and gave him a cold hard stare, it was a stare that made Tyrion shiver just looking at it, it was a stare of a man who was close to doing something in anger, and Tyrion had never truly seen his father angry, though the Reynes and Tarbecks had and they had not lived to tell the tale. In a voice laced with coldness and barely concealed anger Lord Tywin spoke. “His Grace is still too tired. Pycelle seem him to his room and give him a draft to sleep.”

Joffrey’s protests were ignored as Pycelle ushered him back to his chambers, all the while Lord Tywin continued to stare at him with a cold look in his pale green eyes. Once Joffrey was gone Lord Tywin turned to Cersei and fixed her with his cold stare, and asked “Hiding like a craven am I, like I did during Robert’ Rebellion? I wonder where did the boy get that from?”

Tyrion saw Cersei shudder and say “He meant nothing by it father. It was probably something Robert said to him when he was younger.”

Lord Tywin continued to stare at Cersei before saying “Indeed. Varys you may leave us. Tyrion, Cersei both of you shall stay.”

Varys walked out of the council chamber his slippered feet making not a sound on the hard wooden floor.  Once the door had closed behind him Lord Tywin looked at Cersei once more and said “Whilst Joffrey sulks, we shall need to discuss your marriage options.”

Cersei spluttered “Marriage options? Whatever do you mean father? I am the Queen I do not need to marry again, nor do I wish to.”

Lord Tywin though was unmoved by this. “You shall do as you are told for the good of the family. I shall suggest a marriage between yourself and Willas Tyrell, when Lord Mace returns to the city. We must quell these foul rumours that Stannis Baratheon has spread.”

_What if they are not so foul and not rumours at all, what would you do then father?_ Thought Tyrion. Though he knew that if he said such a thing out loud, it would be his head adorning a spike on the walls of the Red Keep.

Cersei looked cowed, and Lord Tywin then turned his attention to Tyrion. “Would that we could marry you to the Stark Girl. But alas she is not here. We shall need to find a match for you soon enough Tyrion. In the meantime, I mean to see an end to this war.”

Tyrion leaned forward eagerly as did Cersei, wondering how his father planned on ending the fighting. Lord Tywin said nothing for a few moments and then said. “Joffrey’s wedding will go ahead as planned. I will call Lord Tyrell and his men back from Harrenhal, and instruct Lord Rowan to lead his men on Riverrun. The Targaryen boy will be overconfident after taking the Rock and will likely try something foolish. That shall be his undoing.”

Tyrion had to ask this though. “You have heard the rumours that the boy has a dragon have you not father?”

Lord Tywin looked at him then and said “The dragons have been dead for hundreds of years. I will believe that they are alive again when hell freezes over, and Stannis Baratheon develops a sense of humour.”

* * *

\---------

**Catelyn**

With Sansa and Arya both in Riverrun, the castle seemed to have livened up considerably. Or perhaps that was just her. After not having her daughters with her for so long, Catelyn was determined to spend as much time with them as possible. She did not despair as much as she had before the war had not started about making Arya into a lady, nor did she try to. She was more than willing to allow Arya to practice with her Needle with Brienne so long as Brienne was not busy doing other things. She spent a good deal of time with Sansa also, sewing with her and talking with her. It was clear that Sansa was very excited for her marriage to Jon, more so than she had been when she thought she would be marrying Joffrey, and Catelyn was glad of it. Her daughter had been so much already in her young life and she deserved some happiness and love, and from the way Jon had looked whenever he spoke of Sansa, she knew that that was exactly what her daughter would get from him.

There were still times of course that she worried for her two little boys back in Winterfell. Bran ever the adventurer who had still been asleep when she had left for King’s Landing all those years ago, and fierce little Rickon who had been no more than a babe when she had last seen him. She tried to reassure herself that her presence in Riverrun was justified. They could not head north with the girls until the Ironborn were out of the lands, and Robb would need her help choosing a bride for him from Lord Frey’s brood, he had been quite insistent about that when he had last seen her. Also her father Lord Hoster was close to dying, his waking hours grew shorter and his tortured dreams grew longer. He constantly kept speaking of a Tansy, though Catelyn and the rest of the household of Riverrun knew not who this Tansy was though Catelyn had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her sister Lysa. Lysa who refused to answer any of the ravens that had been sent to her, who refused to send anymore aid to Lord Royce at Harrenhal. Lysa who if word was true was being courted by Petyr for the Lannisters at this very moment. Lysa who had always been in love with Petyr who had given him her maiden’s gift.

There was some concern within the ranks of soldiers at Riverrun though. Her brother Edmure and Lord Bolton had led a force of 15,000 men to do battle with Lord Rowan’s larger host at the Trident. Their force had been almost annihilated, and they had only managed to retreat with the help of a savage and large pack of wolves led by a fierce she wolf, who it turned out had been Nymeria, her daughter Arya’s wolf who had followed Edmure and his men back to Riverrun and had not stopped whining until Arya had spotted her in the courtyard, and since the two had been neigh on inseparable. But that was not the cause of concern for the soldiers and the people of Riverrun were well used to the direwolves that her children had. It was the fact that Lord Rowan had not given pursuit to their force as it retreated that worried them, even her uncle the Blackfish had said that it was passing odd, for Lord Rowan though he was not as skilled as Lord Tarly in the arts of war was a fierce warrior who did not like letting his enemies live. All thought that perhaps this was some ploy to drive them into a false sense of security and tempt them into doing something rash.

Her uncle had spoken to her after the battle had ended and had shared some of his more worrying thoughts. “It was a rout well and true, Little Cat. “ The Blackfish had said still covered in blood and dirt. “But that is not what worries me. No what worries me is that Bolton led his part of the army straight into the middle of Lord Rowan’s host.”

That had surprised Catelyn, Lord Bolton was not known for being a rash or hasty man, he was a man who was known for his caution and patience as he had shown on the Green Fork, this action of his was certainly out of character.

Her uncle had then continued to voice his doubts. “His host was destroyed, his men butchered yet still he continued with the assault even though he himself held back. It is a wonder that he lived and that Harrion Karstark did as well. Edmure did not see this for he was too busy killing and trying to win some glory. Afterwards Lord Bolton seemed very happy for a man who had just led his men to butchery. I like it not Cat.”

Catelyn remembered the first time she had met Lord Bolton, many years ago in Winterfell. Ned had had to hold a feast after the war, when summer had broken, and she had met Lord Bolton at that feast. He was a cold and pale man who seemed to show little emotion, though she had soon learnt of the enmity between House Stark and House Bolton in ages past as well as Bolton‘s bastard who had caused all matter of problems for the north and for Ned over the years. Last she had heard Bolton’s bastard had forced Lady Hornwood to marry him and then locked her away in a cell, and then disappeared no one knew where he was and Lord Bolton seemed not to care.

Catelyn’s musings were interrupted when she heard a knock on the door, calling for whoever it was to come in she found herself looking at Sansa. Sansa seemed to be simply glowing with happiness as she entered the room even the sight of her grandfather fast asleep though clearly dying could not reduce her happiness curious as to what it was that could have made her daughter so happy Catelyn asked “What is it Sansa? Do you or Arya have need of me? Has there been word from Winterfell? From Robb and Jon?”

Sansa was silent for a moment before she spoke; obviously she had been wanting to say whatever it was for a long time. “A letter has just come from the West from Jon. He writes that they have taken Casterly Rock and Lannisport and plan on coming back to Riverrun soon.”

* * *

 

**Ser Rodrik**

Defeating the Ironborn in Moat Cailin, he had mustered some 1000 men from the surrounding area around Winterfell and with help from men from House Manderly and House Frey they had attacked the Ironborn from three sides. It had been a vicious battle, the Ironborn had been unwilling to submit peacefully and so it had come down to man on man close combat. They had taken the drunkard’s tower relatively easily throwing the Ironborn out of the tower three men at a time. The Children’s Tower had been so lightly held that Ser Rodrik’s men had had no trouble cutting down the men who held it and retaking it. The Gatehouse Tower had taken slightly longer to hold, it was held by one of Victarion Greyjoy’s second in command and the man and his men had fought fiercely that had been a bloody battle and had taken the lives of many a man on both sides, until young Eddard Wull beaten and bloody had beaten Rodrik Blackbone in single combat and won the northmen the Gatehouse Tower and with it the Moat Cailin.

It was then that a rider from Winterfell had arrived and informed them of the Ironborn siege of Winterfell led by Balon Greyjoy himself. Rodrik had ordered that the iron fleet or what was left of it be burned. But there was hardly any of it left, it seemed Victarion Greyjoy had either fled or had been expecting their approach and may possibly be in front of Winterfell with his brother laying siege to it. Ser Rodrik had taken the strength that remained with him as well as some cranongmen and had marched north at once, along the way he was joined by men from Karhold, Barrowtown and the mountain clans and now they were quite close to where the Ironborn had camped.

Their plan was simple a force led by Arnolf Karstark would attack the Ironborn near the East Gate, whilst Ser Rodrik would attack the Ironborn camped near the Hunter’s Gate and hopefully take out Balon Greyjoy himself. He signalled for the horns to be blown, and when they were Rodrik drew his sword from his scabbard and spurred his horse on and led the charge. They caught the Ironborn by the Hunter’s Gate by surprise and managed to use that to their advantage cutting them down where they stood next to their tents and fires, the Ironborn unable to draw their weapons in time before they were ridden down by Ser Rodrik and his men.

The closer they got to the Hunter’s Gate though, the more prepared the Ironborn appeared to be. These men were already armoured and ready for combat, and gave as good as they go, cutting down many northmen as many of their own were cut down. Ser Rodrik himself managed to fell many a Ironborn swinging and hacking any man who was foolish enough to get in his way. He cut his way through the Ironborn looking for the waving crowned Kraken banner that would signal that he was near Balon Greyjoy’s tent. He saw it in the distance guarded by many men and many tents, riding with some 100 men he cut his way through the men one by one, staining his sword and the ground red with their blood, as his men lighted torches and threw them onto the Ironborn tents burning them to the ground and with them many Ironborn who had not gotten out in time.

Soon Ser Rodrik found himself nearing the Hunter’s Gate and with it Balon’s tent. He cut down some of the man’s guards, only to find the man standing outside his tent, sword drawn waiting for Rodrik. The man had the driftwood crown upon his brow and a sneer on his lips as he spoke “So the Greenlanders have come back have they? What is dead may never die.”

And with that Balon Greyjoy charged forward and slashed at the mounted Ser Rodrik, who managed to bring his shield down to deflect the man’s swing. He replied in kind catching Balon on the chin, and drawing first blood. Soon though they were engaged in a ferocious dance of steel as one blow followed another until Ser Rodrik’s horse had been slain and was bleeding to death on the ground nearby, whilst Ser Rodrik and Balon Greyjoy circled round each other both breathing heavily and wounded beyond measure. Greyjoy though it seemed was not willing to give up just yet, for through a mouth of blood he spat “You think you’ve won this battle. Ha. This has only just begun.” And with that he swung again, Ser Rodrik lunged back and then brought his shield down on Balon’s head bringing the man down to his knees, Ser Rodrik knocked the man’s sword out of his hand and then in one swift motion brought his sword down on top of the man’s head, cleaving it in two.

Though Balon Greyjoy was dead, the Ironborn continued to fight on. Ser Rodrik found himself swinging and hacking his sword well past the point of exhaustion, though the Ironborn seemed to just keep on appearing and fighting him and his men. Briefly he thought of how Arnolf Karstark was doing and whether he too was facing the same problem, when he heard the sound of a horn being blow. He wondered at that for the only horn blowers were with him and they were both dead. Could this be more Ironborn or help from the northern houses?

As it turned out it was neither, the men wore the flayed man of Bolton on their armour and cut down Ironborn with such fury, at their head was a man who looked half beast, swinging his sword like a man possessed and with such hate in his eyes Rodrik was surprised that he didn’t burn with it. But the change came when all the Ironborn lay dead or dying and the Bolton men began to attack their fellow northmen cutting them down to pieces, Ser Rodrik was about to protest when he felt an arrow pierce his chest, and then two struck both his legs as he fell to the ground he could have sworn he saw the Bastard of Bolton emerge out of the fray and look down on him with a mocking smile.

“But, how, why?” Ser Rodrik managed to stutter.

Bolton’s Bastard replied with a mocking smile. “What is dead may never die, is that not what the Ironborn say? But what about those that never died in the first place, what of them noble ser? You shall make a fine skin to wear in the winter. Boys take him to the dungeons.”

And with that Ser Rodrik felt a blow to the head before he blacked out.

* * *

**Jon**

His wounds were healing slowly but surely. It no longer pained him to move his arms though it still pained him if he put too much pressure on his right leg as he had found out when he had fallen down whilst sparring with Robb one day during a break in their constant meetings and discussions. Since the Rock had been taken, they had had to spend a great deal of time discussing their next move. Some urged to march straight for King’s Landing with the Tyrells having spread themselves out between Harrenhal and the Trident, they argued that King’s Landing was a clear road. Others such as Lord Tarly and Ser Barristan cautioned against such an approach stating that it would leave their rear open to attack should Lord Tyrell move from Harrenhal, or Lord Rowan from the Trident. Eventually it had been decided that they would march for Riverrun. That discussion in itself had lasted a month as they had had to discuss what they would take from the Rock with them back to Riverrun, most of the Westerlands livestock was in the Riverlands, most of the gold from Castamere and the surrounding areas was as well. But they had discovered vast oceans of gold and plunder in the vaults of the Rock, which after having been shared out equally between the Lords and the soldiers was still plentiful. With the amount left, Jon had decided to take some back to Riverrun and leave the rest in the Rock.

 

He had also then had to decide what to do with the prisoners that they had taken during the battle. Ser Emmon Frey, Jon had executed for the crime of treason. But his wife and son and grandchildren had been spared. Lyonel Frey was to take up the black and his grandchildren Tywin and Willem Frey were to be hostages to Jon once the war was over. Walder Frey otherwise known as Red Walder had refused to surrender and as such Jon had been forced to execute him along with his father. He still had nightmares sometimes about all the blood he had shed during this war, and sometimes wished that it was all just a dream and that he could wake up and find that he was still in Winterfell with his family and that the King had never come to Winterfell at all. The women would be coming with them as prisoners to Riverrun except Cerenna Lannister whom would wed Torrhen Karstark and become Lady of Casterly Rock whilst Torrhen became Lord of the rock. It was a decision that had surprised many, including Lord Karstark, though he did not complain once it became apparent that his son would become Warden of the West and part of one of the richest houses in the kingdom at the end of the war. Torrhen and Cerenna’s wedding had taken place a fortnight ago and Torrhen it seemed was smitten with his new wife, as she was with him, which pleased Jon. He did need allies in these parts after all.  Before Torrhen’s wedding however, all the remaining Westerlords had come to Casterly Rock to swear fealty to Torrhen and recognise him as Lord of Casterly Rock, as well as to swear fealty to Jon and recognise him as their king.

After that, Jon had then had to spend a whole day and a half rewarding those who fought bravely at Lannisport and at Casterly Rock. He had knighted Dickon Tarly himself, had promised Lord Tarly Wardenship of the South once the war was over as well as all the land currently belonging to Highgarden and Brightwater Keep. He had also raise Ser Leyton Appleton, who had fought bravely and defended a wounded Dickon Tarly during the battle, to the Kingsguard giving him a grand total of three of seven white knights. He had also overseen the marriage of various Westerlords daughters to northern lords or heirs to secure their alliance further.

It was with some relief then that Jon found himself mounting Serrax his black dragon who was now so entirely massive in size and stature he blocked out the sun, ghost was in between Serrax’s claws. They were heading off to Riverrun today and it promised to be a enjoyable flight. Jon turned to look down at Robb who was mounted on his horse below him and said “I’ll be seeing you soon Stark.”

Robb grinned and replied “And I you Targaryen.”

And with that Jon nudged Serrax and the dragon took flight. He soared above the ground in the air, and Jon marvelled at the beauty of the land, the fertile green fields and the hills and lakes that littered the Westerlands. For the first time in a long time Jon felt that perhaps being a dragon rider was not such a bad thing if he got to experience and see things from this point of view away from all the blood and squabbles of the land.

As the holdings of Wayfarer’s rest came into view beneath him Jon’s hear gave a little flip, he was so close to Riverrun now, so close to Sansa. He urged Serrax on, urging him to fly faster and Serrax responded by beating his wings furiously and by issuing a slight roar, which sent birds flying from the nearby trees and cause the people in the fields to look up in fright. Jon did not care though for once he allowed himself to think merely of what he wanted, and right now that was to see Sansa again, to hold her in his arms again.

Soon Wayfarer’s Rest departed beneath them, and the great castle of Riverrun came into view and Jon felt his chest a flutter with nerves and excitement. As he got closer to the castle he could see the tents of the armies of the Riverlords and the Dornishmen flying their banners as well the his own banner, and acting on an impulse Jon steered Serrax away from the tents where he was originally meant to land, and steered him closer toward the castle. As he did so he could hear the people of the castle beginning to shout and point at Serrax, ignoring them Jon urged Serrax closer to the castle and the courtyard, and then as Serrax prepared to dive in for landing Jon shouted “Clear the way.” And like a horde of ants the people of Riverrun moved away from the courtyard, and ran inside or onto the battlements, as Serrax dived into the castle and then straightened out to land in a crouching position in the middle of Riverrun’s courtyard.

Jon jumped from Serrax’s back and helped Ghost come down from his dragon’s mouth. He then made to fix the saddle and take some of the bags down from Serrax’s back to ease the dragon’s burden, but before he could do that he was attacked by a bright auburn haired person, who jumped into his chest, forcing Jon to wrap his arms around them. It was only when the person began peppering him with kisses that he realised that it was Sansa.

“I’m happy to see you too Sansa.” Jon said laughingly.

Sansa stopped her kissing of him to look up at him through her lashes and she took his breath away, she had gotten more beautiful since he had last seen her. “I’m more than happy to see you Jon. Or should I say your grace.” She said, disentangling herself long enough to give him a curtsey.

Jon growled and said “None of that Sansa, come here.” With that he pulled her flush against his chest, and not caring that half of Riverrun was watching, kissed her full on the mouth, kissed her long and hard, trying to convey all he felt for her in that kiss. She seemed to respond well to it for soon she was kissing him back with equal ferocity and their tongues were duelling in the other’s mouth. Jon was the one who broke the kiss, and though he felt his heart swell when he heard Sansa give a little moan of protest, he had noticed Arya and Lady Catelyn walking towards them.

Keeping an arm around Sansa, Jon gave Arya a one armed hug and then kissed Lady Catelyn’s outstretched hand, before saying. “My ladies it is a pleasure to see your faces again. I fear that the men will not be here for some time yet, for I lost patience with our dithering and decided to fly out alone myself.”

Arya laughed at that and Lady Catelyn smiled and said “It is good to see you again Your Grace. Though I do believe you may have something to ask my daughter if I remember correctly.”

She gave him a pointed look, and then Jon realising what she was hinting at removed his arm from around Sansa’s waist and got down one knee and took hold of Sansa’s right hand and kissed it before saying. “Sansa Stark, I have loved you since the day you were born and I have always wished to be yours and yours alone. I know that I may not be the shining knight that you wished for, but I promise to love and protect you till the end of my days. Sansa Stark will you marry me?”

Jon looked up at Sansa through his curls and saw that she was crying, but they seemed to be tears of joy, for she brought their entwined hands up to her heart and held them close before saying in a shaky voice. “Yes, Jon. A thousand times yes.”

Jon smiled then and got up and kissed Sansa again, his heart full to bursting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Two Hearts That Beat As One/ A Flayed Wolf

**Sansa**

It was the day of her wedding, and her heart was fluttering with excitement. Sansa knew that what she felt for Jon was so much more than what she had felt for Joffrey, was more than she could feel for anyone else who was not Jon. When he arrived in the courtyard of Riverrun on his dragon- _our dragon now, Jon said-_ Sansa had been walking through the halls, and had seen him land. He had looked every inch a king and a warrior, and she had been unable to keep herself from walking calmly out to him like a proper lady would, instead she had all but run to him and flung herself into his arms, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. She blushed to think of it now, but he had kissed her back as well, and then he had gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him, and Sansa had thought her heart would just explode with love for Jon, her King and her knight.

Now after days of preparation in which Sansa had sewed and then re-sewed her wedding cloak, she was finally getting married to the man she loved. For Jon was truly a man, he had a weary look to his face and a beard that made him look like her father, but whenever he saw her, his face seemed to light up and he smiled at her and his actions made her feel like she was the only girl in the world. Yes she thought as she brushed her hair in front of her vanity, she dearly loved Jon. As she was brushing her hair, there was a knock on her door and as she called for whoever it was to come in, she found herself looking at her mother through the vanity. Her mother looked beautiful in Stark Grey her auburn hair done up in a simple braid. She smiled at Sansa and said “You look very beautiful today Sansa, Jon certainly is a very lucky man.”

Sansa smiled at her mother and spoke “You look very lovely as well mother.”

Lady Catelyn smiled and then took the brush from Sansa’s hands and began to brush her daughter’s hair, whilst Sansa leaned back and hummed contentedly. Lady Catelyn spoke again. “How are you feeling sweetling?”

Sansa took a moment to think about just how she was feeling, before she spoke.”Excited mother, and a bit nervous.”

Lady Catelyn smiled at her daughter and then said “That’s good. I know that Jon will treat you with the utmost care, I am very happy for you Sansa, and for Jon.”

Sansa smiled at her mother. Once her mother had finished brushing her hair, she helped her put it up into a simple braid, and then helped her into her wedding dress. It was a simple dress of grey and blue, and with her bride’s cloak of Stark Grey on Sansa felt like she was floating. Indeed when Robb came to her room to escort her to Riverrun’s godswood, Sansa felt like she was gliding on air. As she walked through the halls of Riverrun all those she passed bowed their heads to her and murmured “Your Grace” to her and it took her a minute to remember that after today she would be a Queen, Jon’s Queen.

She and Robb entered the Godswood, where her family and all the Lords who were in Riverrun still were gathered as she walked down toward the Heart Tree, she saw Arya looking rather resplendent in a grey dress, and how their mother had convinced her to wear it still remained a mystery to Sansa. Though as they got nearer to the heart tree, there was only one person Sansa had eyes for. Jon looked like something from the songs and stories she had so loved as a child. He looked like more than a king; he looked like a god in his black tunic and black breeches a red and black Targaryen cloak draped around his shoulders.

As Robb left her to stand beside Jon in front of the heart tree, Jon took her hands in his and smiled at her. She smiled back, and then Septon Chylde the Septon at Riverrun stood before them, and began to speak about the importance of marriage and about them remaining faithful to each other during the long years of their marriage, but Sansa was only half paying attention, she was too busy looking at Jon’s mouth, the way his lips seemed to part as he began to recite his vows to her, and all she could think of was kissing those lips, kissing them until they were both breathless, and she almost turned red with pleasure at the thought. She was on auto pilot as she said her vows, promising in front of the old gods and the new to remain faithful to Jon for all her days, but when it came to the final part of the ceremony she focussed. Robb moved forward and removed her stark cloak and for a minute she was without a house, and then Jon with strong and sure hands wrapped her in a red and black Targaryen cloak and brought her under his protection. Then he brought himself closer to her and they kissed, and over the pounding of her heart she heard the cheering of the assembled people in the godswood.

Their wedding feast was held in the great hall of Riverrun, and there were many singers and revellers to entertain the guests. Jon fed her all the choice pieces of meat from his plate and they danced and danced, even though Jon was not that good of a dancer, she still delighted of the feeling of being in his arms. He felt so strong and reassuring and after the things she had been through in King’s Landing she felt safe in his presence. Soon though the peacefulness of meal was disrupted when someone, she knew not who but assumed it was a northerner shouted loudly “Let’s bed them!” Soon the whole hall was shouting for her and Jon to be bedded, and she soon found herself being lifted up into the air by most of the lords whilst Jon was lifted up by many of the ladies in attendance. The men began to tear her gown of off her, and shouted lewd jests to her and about her, and when she was finally deposited into Jon’s- _their-_ room she was only in her small clothes. She moved to the bed and sat down on one side, as the door opened once more and Jon was deposited into the room in only his small clothes. He muttered something under his breath and then locked the door, before he turned to her.

“Are you well my lady? I hope they did not do anything unseemly to you?” Jon asked.

Sansa smiled at him and said “Nothing that I was not expecting Your Grace.”

Jon grimaced and said “Please Sansa lets not use titles here. With you, I’m just Jon.”

Sansa nodded then and said “Well then Jon, I believe we do have something to do, do we not?” She blushed at her boldness, though Jon chuckled.

“I suppose we do.”

He moved to her side of the bed and bent down so that their foreheads were touching and then he tentatively brushed his lips against hers, Sansa sighed in contentment, and Jon it seemed took that as encouragement for he began kissing her again and this time Sansa kissed him back and soon they were both moaning into each other’s mouths. Their tongues wrapped around each other, and they fell down onto the bed, and Sansa straddled Jon, and rocking her hips against him so fervently that Jon had to deepen the kiss so as not to moan out too loudly. Sansa then set about undoing Jon’s shirt as he went about undoing her small clothes, and soon they were both stark naked, on the bed.  She could feel Jon’s arousal pushing against her stomach, and curious Sansa moved her hand down and grabbed onto it eliciting a groan from Jon. She tentatively moved her hand up and down on his arousal, and Jon began murmuring all kinds of words into the hollow of her neck. Sansa could feel herself growing wet for Jon, and it seemed Jon could feel it as well for soon he was lifting her up and moving himself between her thighs, kissing her in between her legs with his tongue, and oh gods it felt so good. She moaned aloud, and soon Jon was kissing her nub. “Oh gods Jon, that feels so good.” Sansa moaned.

Jon increased the pace of his kissing and licking until Sansa felt her release hit her hard, but that didn’t stop Jon he kept going until she came again for a second time, she was shivering above him when Jon made to kiss her again. Sansa said “No wait. I, I want you to feel pleasure as well.” She blushed then at her words but Jon merely groaned with arousal, and soon Sansa found herself lowering herself onto him and then she began to move up and down on Jon’s manhood, as he groaned and bucked his hips up to help her, they found a rhythm and began to move in time with one another, in such a way that soon both of them came at the same time. Sansa felt Jon’s seed spill inside of her and then as she removed herself from him she lay her head down on his chest.

Jon began playing with a strand of her hair as she listened to his heart beat, Sansa began to feel herself drifting off to sleep but before she did, Jon spoke his voice thick with emotion. “I have missed you Sansa. I missed you so much when you were in King’s Landing, I saw the scars on your back sweetling and I promise you I’ll make Joffrey pay for what he did to you.”

Sansa merely hummed in contentment so long as she was with Jon she would feel safe. Jon went on “When we marched for war to free father and you and Arya, I was scared. I was so scared that I’d lose you. I don’t ever want to lose you Sansa, never.” He leant down and kissed the top of her head.

Sansa sleepily said. “You won’t ever lose me Jon. I am yours, and you are mine. Till the end of time. We are two hearts that beat as one.”

And after that they spoke no more, Sansa allowed the sound of Jon’s steady heartbeat to lull her to sleep whilst he played with her hair.

* * *

**Catelyn**

It had been a few days since Jon and Sansa’s wedding and the two of them were neigh on inseparable. True enough Jon still did his kingly duties, but as of late he had seemed more distracted. Catelyn understood well enough, Sansa seemed to be glowing since her marriage to Jon and always seemed to be thinking of him whenever they were not together. Surprisingly the northern, river and the Reacher lords had not begun to grumble about their king’s apparent distraction, Robb had joked the other day when she had mentioned this that they were all likely too scared to say anything lest Serrax, Jon’s big dragon burn or eat them. Catelyn did have to admit looking at the dragon from her father’s balcony that there might be some truth to that. Serrax had been a tiny creature the last time she had seen him no bigger than Ghost or Greywind had been as a puppy, and yet now he was so big whenever he flew or moved he blocked the sun and could swallow four aurochs whole. He also had a ferocious appetite and as if having so many armies had not been enough to deplete Riverrun’s stores for the upcoming winter, Serrax and the amount he ate was sure to be enough. It was said that dragons continued to grow for the duration of their life, and could live to be as old as two hundred. Catelyn shuddered to think how big Serrax would be if he lived to be that old. According to Maester Vyman, Serrax was almost as big if not bigger than Balerion the Black Dread had been when Aegon’s Conquest had ended.

Catelyn’s thoughts were interrupted when she heard a knock on the door, calling for whoever it was to entered she found herself looking at Ser Perwyn Frey, now a knight of the Kingsguard, he looked like a true warrior in his white Kingsguard armour. “My lady, His Grace King Jon requests your presence in the Lord’s Solar. Catelyn nodded and moved to follow Ser Perwyn. She knew why she had been summoned; Jon had written Lord Walder and asked him that Arya’s betrothal to Elmar Frey be declared null and void. Instead her brother Edmure would marry one of Lord Walder’s daughters alongside Robb. Lothar Frey had arrived with one of his brothers to discuss the terms of the new marriage agreement and to get Jon’s seal of approval.

Catelyn knew that her brother did not want nor wish to marry one of Lord Walder’s daughters, though at the look Jon, Robb and her uncle the blackfish had given him he had acquiesced. Though he had sulked for a few days afterwards, Arya herself had been beyond happy that she would no longer need to be civil towards Elmar Frey, and had confided in Catelyn that night that Elmar was a strange boy with a strange manner about him and he seemed almost as cruel as Joffrey. Arya had also confided in her that she had heard some of the Bolton men whispering about Ramsay Snow, and something to do with Winterfell though what it was Arya had not been able to hear. Catelyn had chastise Arya for eavesdropping and assured her that it was nothing for her to worry about, though internally when Arya had told her what she had heard all she could here was her uncle Ser Brynden saying “I like it not Little Cat,” she tried to put all thoughts of Lord Bolton aside as she entered her Lord Father’s solar and sat down.

She looked around the room, seated across from her was Lothar Frey. Next to her sat Jon looking as regal as she had ever seen him in Targaryen red and black, Robb, Edmure and her uncle Ser Brynden. Ghost and Greywind were sat by her feet. Ser Perwyn took up a position behind Jon and stood next to Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of Jon’s Kingsguard. Jon was the first to speak after a few minutes of silence. “Now that Lady Catelyn has joined us, we may begin speaking of Lord Edmure and Lord Robb’s upcoming nuptials.”

Catelyn heard Edmure visibly swallow beside her as Lothar Frey spoke. “Thank you Your Grace. My father would be most happy to welcome Lord Edmure into the family along with Lord Stark. As Lord Stark was the one who the agreement was originally made for he shall be able to have his pick of my sisters or nieces. My Lord Father however requests that he be the one who chooses Lord Edmure’s bride. For he has long dreamed of the day that House Tully and House Frey would be united through marriage, and it would gladden his old heart to be able to choose a suitable bride for Lord Edmure.”

Catelyn felt Edmure bristle beside her but thankfully he said not a word. She turned her head to look at Jon, he seemed to be deep in thought, she saw him look at Robb out the corner of his eye, it was a look Catelyn had seen Robb and Jon use many a time when they were younger when they would communicate between themselves without words. She saw Robb give a subtle nod, and then Jon spoke. “ I find these terms agreeable. Tell Lord Walder that we shall be in the Twins for Lord Stark and Lord Tully’s wedding in a week’s time. He shall expect us then.”

Then all of them stood up and Lothar Frey said “Thank you for accepting this Your Grace. I shall send word to my Lord Father, and will see you at the Twins for the double wedding.”

Jon nodded and then said “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”

Lothar Frey voiced his thanks then hobbled back to his room in the keep. Once he had gone and the doors were firmly shut, Jon sat down again and motioned for everyone else to do the same. There was silence for a moment before he said “I like those terms not. Why should Lord Walder get to pick Edmure’s bride and not Robb’s?”

Catelyn was about to respond when Ser Perwyn spoke. “Because Your Grace, my lord father is a prickly man and has been waiting for years to marry into House Tully. I would caution Lord Edmure to be wary of the women my Lord father presents you when you arrive at the Twins and to choose wisely.”

After he had finished speaking Ser Perwyn moved back to stand against the wall and was silent once more. The room itself was silent for a moment before Maester Vyman entered apologising for the interruption but handing Jon a letter.  Before she could ask what was in the letter or who it was from Jon had finished reading the letter and had passed it onto Robb an unreadable expression on his face. Catelyn turned to look at Robb and saw him put the letter down and put his head in his hands. Catelyn felt the nerves beginning to build up in her stomach, and hesitantly she asked “What’s wrong? What is in the letter?” When neither Jon nor Robb answered her, she snatched the letter from where Robb had left it on the table and read it. As she read the letter written in uneat and scratchy handwriting she felt her heart plummet. She had known that the Ironborn had taken Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte, she had known that they were marching on Winterfell but she had never expected it to fall to them. She had known that Ser Rodrik had taken back Moat Cailin and had been marching back to lift the siege on Winterfell, but she had never expected him to lose after killing Balon Greyjoy. But there it was written clear as day in Ramsay Snow’s writing, he had come with 300 men from the Dreadfort to answer Ser Rodrik’s call only to find the old knight dead with an arrow through his chest, and Winterfell burning, Ramsay Snow wrote of how he had led his men through the open gate and how they had killed the Ironborn that had been in the castle. But they had been too late to save the her boys, her little babes. For after the battle Ramsay Snow had questioned two of the Ironborn captives he had taken and they had told him how they had been ordered by a superior to kill Bran and Rickon and to mount their heads on spikes on the walls of Winterfell. Ramsay Snow wrote that when he had looked at the heads on the wall they had been tarred but they were undoubtedly her two young babes. Catelyn read the letter again and again willing the words to go away and for it to be a lie, but every time she read the letter again, just made it seem more real. Her little babes were dead; she would never see them again. They would be forever burned in her memory as the little children they were.

She flung the letter onto the table and felt the tears trail down her face and through tear filled eyes saw Robb raise his head and look at her, his own eyes were tear stained, she looked at Jon and saw him staring blankly into the table. Edmure and Brynden picked up the letter and read it and then when they were finished looked at her. Edmure said “Oh Cat.”

But Catelyn got up she did not want his condolences now, when she would never get to see Bran laugh or hear Rickon beg for just one more song. She turned to look at Jon and though she knew she must sound crazed she asked him “What do you plan to do about this Your Grace.”

Jon looked at her his eyes filled with steel and he said in a voice that would later make Catelyn shiver. “I will bring them Fire and Blood. That is what I shall do.”

* * *

\--------------

**Bran**

_They kept moving through rain and wind they kept moving. More to put distance between themselves and Winterfell than for any particular reason. Bran had been sitting in his lord father’s solar when he had heard the horns being blown. Maester Luwin had come and brought Rickon and Shaggydog, and told Bran that that was Ser Rodrik and the northmen he had managed to gather fighting the Ironborn. At certain points during the battle Bran had fallen asleep and had dreamed that he was a crow watching the battle from a tree up high, and he had watched as the northmen had destroyed the Ironborn host near the East Gate, he had been unable to see how Ser Rodrik had been doing until the three eyed crow and come to tell him that the Kraken King was dead and that he must go and hide now._

_Bran had awoken drenched in sweat, to find Meera, Jojen, Osha and Hodor in the room. He had panicked when he had not seen Maester Luwin with them, but Meera had told him that they had to go and hide now for bad people were about to enter Winterfell. And sure enough as they made their way to the crypts they had heard the sound of battle coming from the courtyard in Winterfell, and Bran had spied the Flayed Man of Bolton on everyone of the soldiers in the courtyard and he had seen as they had killed every single person in the courtyard and had set many parts of Winterfell on fire._

_Bran had not understood what was happening, nor had Rickon. But Bran being the elder had had to reassure Rickon that all would be well. Though he highly doubted that considering that they had no arms nor means to defend themselves other than Summer and Shaggydog should someone take it into their heads to go look for them. It had only been once they had reached the crypts that Osha had finally explained what was happening. It turned out that Ser Rodrik had killed Balon Greyjoy, Theon’s father and that he had been about to march into Winterfell when the Bastard of Bolton had appeared with men from the Dreadfort. They had killed most Ser Rodrik’s men and had taken Ser Rodrik captive. They had then entered the gates of Winterfell and had immediately gone and put the castle to the sword. Osha said she knew all of this because she had been working in the kitchens when it had happened. Maester Luwin had come and told her to go and find him and Rickon and hide them in the crypts._

_As it turned out someone had tried to enter into the crypts three days after the Sack of Winterfell, but because Osha had barred the entrance way they had been unable to enter, and so had given up. They had spent what felt like an age in the crypts whilst Osha had taken a hidden passageway from the crypts to the kitchens to get them food and some supplies. Each time she came back Bran asked her for news of what had befallen his home, and each time she would report that Bolton’s Bastard was merely prowling around torturing the people he had captured. That had been until she had come back one day and told them that they needed to leave. Apparently Bolton’s Bastard or one of his men had seen Osha in the kitchens and had made to grab her, but she had fled before he could do so much as touch her, and so they had walked deep into the crypts passed the ancient tombs of the Kings of Winter, taking two swords with them, and as they had reached the tomb of Brandon the Builder, Summer had found a secret passageway with his nose that led them straight into the godswood._

_Bran had not known whether to be happy or sad that whilst most of Winterfell had been ruined by the Bastard of Bolton, the godswood had remained untouched. They had walked amongst the Weirwood trees and had found Maester Luwin lying next to the heart tree bleeding from a wound to his chest. Bran had watched helplessly as Maester Luwin looked upon him and Rickon and smiled and then told them that they had to brave, for their mother and for Robb and Jon. They had to be brave, and they had to separate. Once Maester Luwin had been laid to rest, Bran had discussed with Osha very quickly where to go. She had said that she would go with Rickon to Last Hearth, whilst Jojen had insisted that Bran go north beyond the wall. Bran had reluctantly agreed to go and had said a tearful goodbye to Rickon who had not truly understood why he was leaving or why Bran was not coming with him. As he had watched Rickon and Osha get further and further away Bran had vowed to himself that this would not be the last time that he would see Rickon or Winterfell, he had vowed as the sun had set that first night that he would return and then Bolton’s Bastard would pay. For he was a Stark, and Winter was coming._

* * *

**Theon**

Oh it felt good to be able to move again. He had been immobile for so long and unable to move and not permitted to move at the Crag that he had begun to despair that he would ever be free to walk again, to fuck a whore again. But of course when news reached the Crag of the fall of Casterly Rock and Jon’s arrival there on dragon back, Theon had pushed himself up from his sickbed, had taken a deep swig of wine and had made his way to the stables and had gotten on the first horse he could find and had ridden hard for Riverrun.

The journey had been punishing and more than once he had had to stop to catch his breath and rest before his wounds opened up anew. He had been near the Tumblestone river when Jeyne Westerling had come riding up beside him and had begged him to take her with him to Riverrun. Theon had initially been reluctant to take her with him, travelling with a woman was never a good idea, but especially during war time, who knew what sort of trouble could find him simply because he was riding with a daughter of a Lord. But of course Jeyne would not take no for an answer and so Theon had relented and allowed her to come with him, and he found now that he did not much regret the decision. True she could be quite annoying when she complained of her blisters and hurts after a hard day’s ride, but she was also very sweet and charming, and was a good laugh besides. He could now see why Robb had been so infatuated with her when he had been at the Crag.

Robb, Theon suspected though he never said anything was the reason why Jeyne had followed him when he had left the Crag. Then suspected that little Jeyne Westerling thought herself in love with Robb Stark. Oh how he pitied her and laughed at Robb’s charm, the fool had obviously been using Theon’s tips on how to pick up women better than Theon had thought and now it was like to get him in all sorts of hot water. For Theon knew and had told Jeyne on countless occasions during their trip to Riverrun that Robb was betrothed to a Frey of the Crossing and being a Stark would not likely marry her, unless he had done something that honour demanded he marry her for. Jeyne had gone very red at that and said that Robb needed no honour bound reason to marry her other than because he loved her, and she felt that he would be happier with her than with some Frey girl whom he had never met before. Theon had had to laugh at that oh how naive was Jeyne, even if Robb wished to marry her- _which he highly doubted-_ he would never be able to. Lady Catelyn or Jon, or his own damned sense of honour would prevent him from doing so, and Jeyne would be left heartbroken and a long way from home. In fact Theon was surprised that her mother or uncle had not sent out riders to look for her, though when he asked her about that she had made a non committal noise and said something along the lines of them having bent the knee to Torrhen Karstark and recognised him as Lord of The Rock and Jon as their king, so they were not likely looking for her. That had surprised him, Torrhen Karstark Lord of the Rock and now one of the richest men in the kingdoms and married to a Lannister besides. Theon wondered how Jon had managed to get Lord Rickard no matter Torrhen to agree to such a thing considering the bone deep hatred Lord Rickard now bore the Lannisters for the death of his son Eddard. But then he thought if Jon had a dragon and had just taken the rock and was offering its riches to you, you would have to be a complete and utter idiot not to accept, and Lord Rickard was not idiot, no he was not.

The imposing walls of Riverrun came into view and Theon felt his heart give a sort of painful clench, he wondered if he would still be welcome there or if Jon would have to take his head considering that his uncle and sister had invaded the north. The last he had heard from the Crag had been that his father had laid siege to Winterfell, but he had discounted that instantly, his father was not so mad as to invade Winterfell itself, it was so far from the sea as it was.  The minute he brought his and Jeyne’s horse to a stop he thought something was wrong, terribly wrong. The gates were barred shut, there was no sign of the tents that Theon had suspected to see upon hearing news of Lord Tarly and Lord Yronwood allying themselves with Jon, it was as if everything had all disappeared, had he come too late? Had they marched on King’s Landing what was going on?

It seemed his questions were about to be answered when the gates of Riverrun opened and out rode three men, one of whom Theon recognised as the Blackfish. The man gave Theon an appraising glance before asking “Who are you and what is your business here?”

Jeyne made to speak but Theon silence her with a look, it would not do for her to speak and give away why she was here, it would only create problems for Robb and he had enough to think about. So Theon said “It is Theon Greyjoy and I bring with me Lady Jeyne Westerling. I have come to present myself before His Grace King Jon and offer him my sword.”

Theon stopped and silence engulfed them for a moment before the Blackfish spoke again. “You have come to offer him your sword you say? Well your too late for that. His Grace and Lord Stark marched north for the Twins yesterday morning.”

Theon was shocked, he had not expected them to be marching North he thought they would be marching south. He felt Jeyne tense beside him, trying to keep his face calm and neutral he asked “Why have they marched north Ser Brynden?”

The Blackfish gave him a piercing stare before he said. “Because Lord Stark and my nephew must wed Lord Frey’s daughters before he will allow them to cross back into the north to deal with the Ironborn who took Winterfell. I shall take you to see her grace Queen Sansa though, you may find what she has to say interesting.”

Theon felt his heart plummet, Winterfell had fallen. That was not good news, either for himself or for Jeyne. He only hoped he could talk to Sansa privately before any of the lords that still remained began calling for his head, for an act he did not do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	16. Red Skies And A Coat Of Black

**Walder**

The Targaryen boy, the Starks, The Tullys and the might of the north and Riverlands were coming to the Twins for Lords Stark and Tully’s weddings, and what weddings they would be. Yes, thought Walder, _I’ll give them a wedding to remember I will. The Targaryen boy married his cousin heh, typical Targaryen thinking they are better than all of us._ News had reached the Twins of Jon Targaryen’s marriage to Sansa Stark and oh how Walder had fumed, he had thought that the message was clear though he had not sent a request that the boy be betrothed to one of his girls like his cousin was, he thought that the principal would be quite clear, he wanted to have a grandson who would be king, and at the rate the Targaryen boy was winning his battles that was like to have happened. But of course the boy had to go and marry his cousin, and now Lord Walder Frey was left with the Lord of Winterfell and the heir to Riverrun to marry his brood off to.

Though it was not all doom and gloom, for Old Walder had received a raven from King’s Landing write in the hand of Tywin Lannister himself. Old Lord Lannister promised to welcome the Twins back into King Joffrey’s peace if they would play a small part in removing King Jon and Lords Stark and Tully from the war for good, though the murders would go against guest right, Tywin Lannister promised to give Walder Riverrun through any child that the girl Edmure married had, and Winterfell through any child that the girl Robb Stark married had. Walder being a practical man had agreed to the terms that Lord Tywin had set and had begun planning with the help of his son Lothar Frey, the perfect wedding tragedy that could remove the three men from the war and maintain House Frey for years to come.

The final preparations had been made when one of his bastard’s, Walder he thought his name was came and told him that the King and his men had been spotted on the horizon. Walder was helped into his litter and was carried out into the courtyard to greet the king and his men, as he was carried Lothar walked beside him and Walder leaned over and whispered “Make sure that you give no hint to our true purpose today. Make sure everyone plays their part. I want the lords to be too drunk to do anything over than fall and die.” Once he had heard Lothar murmur in agreement Walder dismissed him and put his game face on. It would be important not give them any reason to be suspicious; they were there for a wedding and a wedding they would get. Though how many of them would survive depended on how brutal his brood were feeling at night after a couple of drinks.

Walder felt his litter being put down onto the ground and squinted up at the sky, there was a black dot on the horizon that seemed to be coming closer and closer toward them he wondered what that could be. He heard one of his many children, or grandchildren ask “Is that a rock falling toward us?”

Walder squinted but could not quite make out what the black dot was, and found is attention being diverted back to the main gate as Lord Stark, Lord Tully and their assorted bannermen including Lord Bolton rode through the gates, and stopped their horses just in front of him. Seeing Lord Stark and Lord Tully standing next to one another it was like looking at two versions of the same man. Lord Stark had a big broad build the same as his uncle but whereas Lord Tully kept himself clean shaven and with short hair, Lord Stark had an auburn beard and long auburn hair. King Jon, Walder noticed was missing, he felt himself begin to bristle at the Targaryen boy’s arrogance, was House Frey not good enough for him now? Walder had lost good men fighting the boy’s war and helping retake Winterfell. The least the boy could do was come to the wedding and share Walder’s bread and wine even if it was to be the last meal he would ever have.

Walder voiced his complaints. “Ah if it isn’t Lord Stark and Lord Tully the bridegrooms. I must say it is an honour to have two distinguished war heroes here in my humble home and marrying my daughters. Especially you Lord Stark the man who led the assault that took Casterly Rock.” Walder made a show of looking around for the Targaryen boy before asking. “And where is his grace. Could he not make it?”

The Stark boy had the indecency to laugh at that as if Walder had made some sort of jest, and said. “Lord Walder if you look up you shall see a black mass fast approaching your castle, his grace is on that black mass.”

Lord Walder looked up and wondered if the boy had lost his senses but sure enough where before there had only been a black dot, now was a huge black thing that blocked out the sun with- were those wings?- Yes those were wings, Walder felt his heart begin to hammer frantically against his chest. The boy was riding a.... “Dragon, that’s a dragon.” Walder heard one of his brood say. It was a dragon alright, as it straightened out in the air readying itself for landing, Walder saw that the dragon had scales that were as black as night, and its wings had to be at least forty  feet wide, it was as big as fifty mammoths piled atop of each other and as muscular as thirty aurochs. The plan would definitely not work with a dragon in the castle grounds, and Walder doubted that he would be able to ask that it be caged like he was planning on having the direwolves caged.

As the dragon landed and King Jon dismounted, Walder lowered his head as the rest of his household bowed their heads to the King, though Walder could hear them all muttering about the dragon. He had heard rumours about the dragon but he had not truly believed them, after all the dragons had been dead for hundreds of years. As he heard King Jon speak and ask the household to rise, Walder raised his head and had to do a double take, the King looked like the spitting image of a young Eddard Stark. In fact he had the same weary looking grey eyes, and brown beard that Eddard Stark had had all those years ago during the Rebellion that had put Robert Baratheon on the throne. The only thing that broke the resemblance apart from the red and black instead grey and the dragon was that whereas Eddard Stark had been broad of shoulder and thick of build, King Jon was thinner at the shoulders and lither.

Walder remembered his courtesies and said “Your Grace it is an honour for my house that you have graced us with your presence. I must also say that your dragon is the most wondrous creature that I have ever seen.”

“You are kind to say so Lord Walder, I hope that our men will be able to camp around your castle if not within it. I also hope that we may have some bread and wine for we have travelled long and far and are weary and tired.” King Jon said.

_Ooh very clever boy, Walder thought._ Aloud he only said, “Of course Your Grace. If you would follow me.” With that he gestured for his litter to be lifted and made his way back to the great hall, with King Jon, Lord Stark, Lord Tully and their bannermen following him. His heart was still hammering in his chest, how on earth was he meant to pull of the plan now, with that accursed dragon in the castle, as well as with so many men there, his boys would be butchered if they tried to do anything to the King or to Lords Stark and Tully. He tried to put all those thoughts aside though as he entered the great hall, and gestured for his daughters to come forward to be presented before Lords Stark and Tully. He took his seat in the high chair of the Twins and watched as King Jon remained standing though he ate his bread and drank his wine with his lords, Walder spotted two white cloaks behind him and cursed, _how could he have forgotten about the damned Kingsguard! They would never let the king out of their sites._

Trying to keep his face as expressionless as possible he dared not look for Lord Bolton in case King Jon became curious but he knew that his part in ridding Tywin Lannister of King Jon would not happen, he would not risk his family for that man. Instead he watched as Lords Stark and Tully walked around inspecting his daughters and granddaughters and spoke with them. It was a good thing that he was a patient man still otherwise he might have said more than he needed to. Instead all he said was “Found a cherry to your liking my lords.”

Surprisingly it was Lord Stark who was the first to stop walking around; he had stopped in front of Roslin, Walder’s daughter from some Rosby or the other. Walder had expected that Stark would not know one end of a woman from the other considering whom his father had been, and had thought that perhaps Lord Edmure with his rather big appetite would have chosen first, but he was not one to complain. Lord Stark was all formal when he spoke.”Lord Frey, I have looked and spoken to your daughters and granddaughters and must say I have never met such a fine group of ladies ever before. But as I can only take one wife, I would ask for the hand of your daughter Roslin.”

Walder grunted and said “Very well.”

It took some more time before Lord Tully had finally chosen his own bride. As Walder looked around the room to see whom Lord Tully had chosen he found himself looking at Alyx. She had spirit that one did daughter of his son Symond, she had dark brown hair and brown eyes, and a big bosom. Yes he was not surprised Lord Tully had gone for her, not at all. He nodded his approval when Lord Tully asked for her hand, then clapped his hands together and said.”Your Grace, my lords I know you have travelled far from Riverrun. You must be tired I shall have my servants show you to your quarters, though I think we should give the new couples time to get to know one another what say you?”

King Jon looked at him through his curls and said “I agree Lord Walder. We shall give them time to get to know each other, and then we shall have the wedding in the evening.” And with that King Jon and his retinue left the hall to their chambers, Lord Walder’s brood remained in the hall except for Roslin and Alyx. Walder breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the doors closed behind the Lord Tully and Alyx. He summoned Lothar forward and said to him, “Tell the rest of these idiots that the plan is off.”

If Lothar was surprised by the sudden change in  his father’s plan he gave no indication of it, instead he merely asked “Are you sure? You do not wish to tell Lord Bolton?”

Walder snorted and said “Yes I am sure, and no don’t tell Bolton let him face dragon fire on his own. I will not have our house suffer the wrath of the north nor that bloody big dragon of King Jon’s simply to benefit Tywin Lannister.”

Lothar limed down the steps and began shouting the change of plan, the wedding would go ahead without incident and if Lord Bolton felt the need to do something rash then it would be on his head.

The weddings themselves passed by without incident in the sept of the Twins, Walder felt relieved when he saw Lords Stark and Tully drape two of his girls in their respective family cloaks and then as they made their way to the great hall for the wedding feast he saw his son Perwyn draped in white, and felt relieved that he had called off the massacre. He did not wish to cause harm to any of his children, especially not Perwyn now that he had made a name for himself, Walder felt oddly proud seeing his son draped in Kingsguard white for a king who would more than likely be sitting the Iron Throne at the end of this war.

The feast also passed by without incident, and when it came time for the beddings, Walder encouraged the revelry though he noted that Lord Bolton seemed to have disappeared from the feast half way through, he wondered at that what that man could be plotting now. When all the men and women apart from himself, King Jon and Ser Barristan had left the hall either to help with the bedding or back to their own rooms, Walder gave a sigh of relief.

He turned to look at King Jon and said “Well that’s out of the way then eh. When will you be marching north then Your Grace?”

King Jon was silent for a moment before he said “In two days time, we must needs take Moat Cailin from the Ironborn before we can march on Winterfell.”

Walder could hear the sadness in the King’s voice and for one odd moment remembered what it was like being a young man though he could not imagine what it must be like to be a young man with the weight of the kingdoms on your shoulders. So he found himself giving King Jon some advice as well as words of caution. “Your Grace, I am surprised that you have not heard but Moat Cailin no longer has any Ironborn residents. Your Ser Rodrik took it back from them two moons ago.”

King Jon looked at him then and asked “How is that you know this and I do not?”

Walder chuckled and said “Because I sent men to help your Ser Rodrik, and one of them sent word to me. I had thought one of your lords would have told you by now. I did send word to Riverrun when I heard.”

King Jon was silent for a moment; though Walder knew why King Jon had not seen the raven he wanted to see if the King could figure it out for himself. Walder was not disappointed as next the king said, “There is a traitor in my ranks is there not Lord Walder. Someone who was not in this feast for very long.”

Walder nodded his head and laughed and said “Very good you grace. Now I also know that it was not the Ironborn who neither sacked Winterfell nor killed your cousins, it was Bolton’s Bastard.”

He heard King Jon breathe deeply and continued, “I had men fighting to relieve Winterfell, and one of them came back a few days before you arrived and told me of how Ser Cassel slew Balon Greyjoy and was winning the battle at the Hunter’s Gate but of how Ramsay Snow attacked him from the rear and captured him and then broke the gates of Winterfell open and put it to the torch.”

He heard King Jon inhale deeply, and then heard him ask the question that Walder Frey had been dying for since he’d seen King Jon arrive on the back off the massive dragon. “Does Lord Bolton know of this?”

Walder laughed and said “Oh to be sure Your Grace. Why he orchestrated the whole thing himself, with the help of Lord Ryswell. You see your grace, Lord Bolton is as much a snake as a leech and snakes tend to do others favours for them.”

King Jon looked at him then and said “Thank you for telling me this Lord Walder; I shall not forget when King’s Landing is mine.”

* * *

**Sansa**

Jon and Robb had been gone for two weeks now, they had marched north with her uncle Edmure, first to see Robb and Edmure married and then onto take back the north from the Ironborn and to avenged Bran and Rickon. She still found it hard to believe that anyone would want to kill innocent children which Bran and Rickon were, when Jon had told her of their deaths she had cried herself silly and Jon had held onto her so tightly not saying anything but simply holding her. She had felt something in her heart tear when he had told her and then seeing him off as he rode away on Serrax made her feel like a part of her was missing. She missed Jon dearly; she missed his laugh and his ever so rare smiles,  that were only for her.  He had told her to wait for him and that once the North was rid of the Ironborn it would be onto King’s Landing and then there would be no more fighting, he promised her that and Sansa had sent him away with a promise that when he returned she would be there for him.

Life went on though, Riverrun needed to be run and in her uncle Edmure’s absence, her mother and her great uncle Ser Brynden had taken to running the castle since her grandfather Lord Hoster was still so unwell. Since she was now Jon’s wife and Queen she had attended most if not all of the meetings that her great uncle and mother held with the other Riverlords who were still in Riverrun and some of the Dornish Lords such as Lord Yronwood. She found that the meetings were often tedious and could be quite boring with the Lords often simply complaining of other Lord’s suggestions simply to make themselves feel more important, she did not know how Jon managed to do this and not lose his mind.

She also spent more time with Arya than she had when they had lived in Winterfell. After hearing of Bran and Rickon’s deaths, their mother had become very withdrawn and it had taken both Arya and Sansa to make her come out of her shell and be the person Sansa saw now. Arya of course was very angry and Sansa was relieved to some extent that Lady Brienne was on hand to spar with Arya now that Robb and Jon were gone, Arya seemed to have become quite the fighter yet there was still an innocence to her and innocence to herself also Sansa thought that she knew Jon hoped to keep.

Sansa was trying her best to be a good queen, though it was hard not to snap when all she could think about was Jon and Robb and how they were away fighting yet another battle, and the fact that she might never see them again. She found that she increasingly spent time in Riverrun’s godswood praying to the old gods her father and Jon’s gods to keep Robb and Jon safe, to keep the rest of her family safe, and praying for Joffrey’s defeat. She almost felt sorry for Margaery Tyrell, the poor girl would have to marry Joffrey soon and be subject to his moods and tantrums. She sincerely hoped that Ser Loras, Margaery’s brother would be able to protect her as best as she could, though she wondered if Cersei Lannister would let her son be as abusive to her as he had been to Sansa, considering that Joffrey’s crown depended on the Tyrell alliance. She still remembered how angry Jon had gotten when he had seen the scars on her back from all the times Joffrey had had her beaten. She had been scared that he would not wish to touch her with all her scars, but he had yet again proved himself to be twice the man Joffrey was, when instead of being repulsed by them he had kissed them each softly and slowly. He was so good to her, Sansa hoped that she could as good to him, and she knew that having missed her moon’s blood that perhaps, she hoped she could give Jon a child when he returned to her and the fighting was over.

Sansa was brought out of her day dreaming when she saw Ser Brynden walking towards her with two people trailing close behind her. She gave a gasp of surprise as she saw who the man was. Theon had changed remarkably since she had last seen him, his dark hair had withered to grey, and his lean figure was skin and bones now clearly his injuries had been more severe than first thought. Sansa did not recognise the woman who was with him though she did seem quite pretty, with her chestnut curls and heart shaped face. She wondered who she could be and why she was with Theon. It seemed she was about to get her answers for Ser Brynden stopped in front of her and bowed and then said “Your Grace, I present to you Theon Greyjoy and Lady Jeyne Westerling. They have come to seek an audience with you.”

Sansa smiled and said “It is good to see you again Theon. We had received word of your valiant fighting at the Crag and of your subsequent injuries it is good to see you better. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Theon stepped forward and spoke, “Your Grace I have come to Riverrun to repledge my sword to his grace King Jon and to serve him as best as I can, in his fight to win the Iron Throne.”

Sansa nodded and then turned to look at Lady Jeyne who up until that point had been quiet. “And what brings you to Riverrun Lady Jeyne. I would have thought you would stay with your family in the Crag after my husband and brother left. Unless you have married Theon?”

That drew some chuckles from the assembled lords and made Theon and Jeyne both blush fiercely. Though Jeyne spoke confidently “I have come not because I am married to Theon your grace, but because I wish to speak with Lord Stark.”

The whole room began muttering at her words, and Sansa felt something akin to dread begin to pool up in her stomach. Why would this girl wish to speak to Robb? What had Robb done to her that deserved her coming all the way from the Westerlands? Trying to fight down the nerves she felt Sansa spoke in a clear voice. “Unfortunately my brother and his grace King Jon have had to ride north to deal with the Ironborn threat. My brother will have also married a Frey of the Crossing by now. But I can still hear what you have to say on behalf of my brother if you like?”

She saw Jeyne flush with embarrassment and heard her stutter “I am afraid I must refuse Your Grace. What I have come to say to Lord Stark is for his ears only.”

That drew more muttering from the room, and it took Ser Brynden shouting for quiet before the room became quiet. Sansa tried to keep her face as expressionless as possible as she said “Very well then my lady. You may stay here for as long as you wish. Utheredes will show to your room.”

As Lady Jeyne thanked her and was shown to her room, Sansa looked at Theon and sighed. Technically because his father had invaded the north and had broken the terms of the treaty he had agreed to with her father and King Robert, Theon’s life was forfeit. But Balon Greyjoy was dead, and Robb and Jon were off north, and Theon had fought back from the brink of death to come to Riverrun. She knew not what to do and said, “What am I to do with you Theon? Your father invaded my home, and sacked it. But he is dead now, and so by rights you are Lord of the Iron Islands, and Robb and Jon’s friend to boot.”

Theon said nothing for a moment and then spoke “Whatever you wish for me to do your grace I shall do it. “

Sansa sighed that was the problem what was she to have Theon do. She said “Until his grace and Lord Stark return you shall stay in Riverrun and help around the castle.”

Theon bowed and said “Thank you your grace, you shall not regret your decision.”

Sansa nodded then called an end to the meeting, as she watched the lords and Theon walk out the room she could only hope that she would not regret what she had just done.

* * *

**Varys**

King’s Landing was a city filled to the brim with people fleeing from the war torn Riverlands. People seeking refuge in the capital, which did not yet realised that the more they flocked to the capital the more people there were for the Lannisters to kill when King Jon eventually took the city. Varys knew that King Jon was moving north to deal with the Ironborn that still held some of the castles there, he also knew that Lord Bolton had been in contact with Tywin Lannister about possibly betraying King Jon at Lord Stark’s wedding, though from what his sources in King Jon’s army reported, no such betrayal had happened, apparently Lord Walder had gotten cold feet after seeing King Jon arrive in the Twins on the back of his dragon Serrax.

Of course there was not all good news for Varys, his little birds in the Eyrie reported that Littlefinger had arrived there some three days ago and had subsequently proposed to Lysa Arryn, their wedding was set to be in a few days time, though much to the chagrin of her bannermen particularly Lord Royce and a new group of dissidents calling themselves the Lords Declarant of the Vale who wished for Littlefinger to be gone. Varys did allow himself a small chuckle when he heard of that, Littlefinger did always have a habit of making people hate him. Though the one thing that did worry Varys was that Littlefinger would more than likely ask Lysa Arryn to write to Lord Royce at Harrenhal and demand that he bend the knee to Joffrey and surrender up Harrenhal. If Lord Royce did do that, then King Jon’s cause was as good as lost, for the Valemen were the only thing preventing Mace Tyrell and Mathis Rowan from marching their combined forces onto Riverrun and laying siege to it.

It was with these thoughts going through his head that Varys entered the small council chamber and listened as Lord Tywin once again spoke about possible marriages for his children Queen Cersei and Lord Tyrion. Varys knew and always felt like saying to Lord Tywin that it was no good in trying to cajole Cersei into marrying anyone else as the only person she wished to marry was currently rotting in a cell in Riverrun. Lord Tyrion on the other hand it seemed wished to marry someone though Varys knew that that someone was actually a whore, who was in Varys’ pay. Varys also knew that the passageway that led to Chataya’s the brothel, underneath the Tower of the Hand had been built at roughly the same time as Lord Tywin had been Hand and had lost his wife, so he did wonder if Lord Tywin used the passage or not.

Of course he kept these thoughts to himself as he spoke about what his little birds had told him. He always felt a delicious sense of triumph whenever he spoke in these small council meetings for ever since Robert Baratheon had become king he had spoke in half truths, giving enough to the other small council members to make them feel as if he was on their side whilst all the while working against them to ensure the full truth came to fruition. Today was one such instance as he talked about how Danaerys Targaryen had been seen in Pentos by one of his little birds and how she was apparently trying to buy a fleet to take her back to Westeros. This was met by much deriding by Lord Tywin, Lord Tyrion, Cersei and Grand Maester Pycelle all of whom were of the opinion that the girl with no army and nothing to offer any potential sailors was not like to be approaching Westeros anytime soon, but what they did not know nor did Varys care to enlighten them was that Danaerys Targaryen had with her two dragons who if what his sources said were true, were almost as big as Vhagar and Meraxes had been during the conquest. Sufficient enough to warrant allegiance from many sellsword companies and captains of ships, and if she allied with King Jon then there would be three dragons in the field and another field of fire. The House Lannister would crumble and the Targaryens would be back on the Iron Throne.

When talked turned to King Jon and his movements, Varys noted that Lord Tywin seemed to be trying to hide a smug little smile  for of course he thought that Lord Walder and Lord Bolton would have ridden him of King Jon and Lords Stark and Tully in one night. What Varys did not tell him though was that Lord Walder had not been the one to tell King Jon of the plot that Lord Tywin had concocted, nor did he tell him that Lord Bolton would more than likely be burning to ash as he spoke. When he spoke of King Jon’s marriage to the Lady Sansa that was when things began to turn interesting. Cersei began to throw around various suggestions as to what to do with her all of them included her dying. Lord Tywin Varys noted remained calm an unreadable expression on his face throughout, until finally he said, “Contact a sorrowful man, and have them attack Sansa Stark. We kill her, we kill King Jon’s hopes of an heir.”

Varys made all the noises to suggest he would do as commanded but secretly he planned on sending a warning to Queen Sansa in Riverrun warning her to be careful of whom she talked to and trusted and to be careful of Lady Jeyne Westerling and her motives. For he knew that the Westerlings were plotting with Lord Tywin to try and ensnare Lord Stark, to incite the Starks downfall, and Varys was determined not to let that happen.

Varys gave one last piece of news that seemed to make the whole council chamber happy. “My lords, Your Grace, my sources on Dragonstone confirm that Stannis Baratheon has finally left Dragonstone. He sails for Maidenpool. He means to attack King Jon.”

* * *

**Danaerys**

Pentos was just as big and as grand as she remembered it. The last time she had been in the city had been before she had married Khal Drogo. Now she was back in the city to speak with Magister Illyrio about her nephew and to find ships that could take her home. Her dragons Viserion and Rhaegal had grown very quickly during her travels in the Red Waste and were big enough to ride now, but Dany wished to bring an army with her if she was to help her nephew reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Magister Illyrio greeted her on the steps to her manse and gave her the usual courtesies about what a pleasure and honour it was to host her though she noticed that he did look at her dragons with a mixture of awe and fear. _Good let him feat them, he shall know what will happen to him if he does not speak the truth._ Dany thought.

She spent the next few hours talking to him about her travels through the Red Waste as he updated her on news from Westeros telling her about the war between the Lannisters and he nephew. When he spoke of her nephew he called him His Grace and there was a slight look of awe and reverence whenever he spoke of him. Dany was curious as to what could have won her nephew this Jon Targaryen so much reverence from the cheesemonger and so when she asked him this he laughed and said that her nephew had yet to lose a battle and had with him a dragon called Serrax that was as black as night and as big if not bigger than Balerion the Black Dread.

He then asked after her plans, and when she told him that she meant to sail for Westeros, he introduced her to man called Harry Strickland commander of the Golden Company. She remembered when Viserys had feasted the captains of the Golden Company all those years ago and how they had shared meat and mead with him and laughed at him, how tides had changed she thought. If Viserys had her dragons then it would be him talking to Harry Strickland not her. But she listened as Harry Strickland told her that the Golden Company was ready to set sail at a moment’s notice all 10,000 of them to wherever she wished them to go. As Dany thought about what he said, she asked Illyrio where her nephew was currently and he told her that he was in Riverrun the seat of House Tully. Danaerys made up her mind turning to Harry Strickland she said “Tell your men to be ready for two days time. We shall sail for Westeros then. For I have a nephew to meet and a kingdom to help win.”

 

 

 

 

 


	17. Becoming The Dragon

**Jon**

The day after the double wedding of Robb Stark and Edmure Tully to Roslin and Alyx Frey bloomed bright and early. Autumn truly was in full swing, as Jon awoke in the room that he had been given in the Twins, he heard the birds chirping and saw the sun’s rays peaking through the windows. Sighing he got up, and began to put on his clothes. They would have to march north today, for they could not stand to wait any longer, for after learning of Roose Bolton’s attempted betrayal Jon was weary of giving the man another opportunity to betray them. Jon knew that he would have to talk to Robb and Edmure about what Lord Walder had told him, and he was unsure as to how they would take the news that one of their most able commanders had been about to betray them.

Once he was changed he put his crown on and walked out of the room, nodding to Ser Barristan who had been on guard duty throughout the night, he made his way down to the great hall for breakfast. As he entered the hall with Ser Barristan close behind him Jon noted that the hall seemed relatively empty, and assumed that it was still early yet. He moved to a table far from the doorway and sat down next to Robin Flint and Lord Blackwood. They exchanged small talk for a little while before Lord Blackwood got up and made his way to greet his sons, Jon and Robin continued talking about the upcoming battles and how best to take Winterfell and Deepwood Motte from the Ironborn. As their discussion advanced Jon came to realise that perhaps after arriving at the Twins yesterday on Serrax’s back, many of his men and perhaps some of the spies that there might be in the camp would be expecting him to use the dragon in battle. Whilst Jon knew that Serrax was big enough to ride into battle he still felt a little unsure about using him for battle, for he was worried about the damage the dragon could do not only to the enemy but also to his own men.

Eventually Robin got up and begged leave to go and tend to their horses, which Jon granted. As he watched Robin go, he could not help but think of Winterfell as he had last seen it. A tall and strong castle standing proud amongst the north, he could not understand why Ramsay Snow had put it to the torch, nor could he truly understand why Roose Bolton would wish to betray him, in case the man hadn’t noticed they were winning the war. But Jon swore to himself as he saw Robb and Edmure enter the hall that he would find out and he would avenge Bran and Rickon. When Robb saw him, Jon gestured for him and Edmure to sit by him, which they did. When they had both sat down Jon looked at them both and then asked, “So then my lords, did you have fun last night?”

Both men blushed and stuttered out that yes they did enjoy last night thank you very much. Jon laughed and even saw Ser Barristan’s lips quirk into a smile. But then Jon turned serious once more and said, “That is good for I have something important to tell you. Something that I learnt last night.” Both Robb and Edmure leaned forward listening intently as Jon continued. “I spoke with Lord Walder last night after the bedding and all the other lords had gone to bed or to wench. He told me that Moat Cailin was won back by Ser Rodrik, he knows this because one of his own men was there fighting alongside Ser Rodrik and was also there fighting at Winterfell. Now what I am about to tell you must remain between the three of us until we have taken Winterfell back,” When they both nodded their acceptance Jon continued, “This same soldier told Lord Walder that it was not the Ironborn who put Winterfell to the torch, no it was Ramsay Snow.”

Both Robb and Edmure seemed surprised by this and Robb asked “How though? I thought the bastard had died?”

Jon shook his head, “Apparently not. He came with men from the Dreadfort, and attacked Ser Rodrik from the rear, taking him prisoner and then with the help of the traitor Arnolf Karstark broke the gates open and put Winterfell to the torch. Bolton was the one who told his bastard to do the deed, and hoped to benefit greatly from it by having us three killed last night.”

Both Robb and Edmure cursed aloud, and said “How are we to trust Lord Walder’s word though. The man might be playing us false Your Grace.”

Jon nodded and said “I thought about that, but I see no reason why he would wish to when, we have a dragon that could easily get the confession out of him. And besides you did not see for you both were too busy with your respective brides, but Lord Bolton left the feast before the bedding was announced and did not come back into the hall.”

Robb then asked “So what are we to do?”

Jon smiled then and said “Why show him the truth of our words of course Robb.” And so they talked for some more time planning and plotting as to how to get Bolton to confess to his crimes and pay for them without him suspecting that they were trying to get him to confess for as they all knew Lord Bolton was a cautious man by nature, though his bastard was not.

Eventually they went their separate ways to prepare for the journey north, and as Jon put on his armour and entered the courtyard he saw Robb saying goodbye to his lady wife, and felt a pang in his chest. He ached to see Sansa, but he knew that he needed to get this business with the Ironborn sorted first before he could ever look her in the eye again, and so putting all other thoughts out of his head for the time being he mounted Serrax and nodded to Robb and Edmure and then dug his heels into Serrax’s side spurring Serrax into action, for the black dragon let loose a deafening roar and then jumped into the air before he opened his wings and began to fly toward Winterfell.

Jon made sure to keep Serrax flying in the air above the army, which was being led by Robb and Edmure, so as to lead them as quickly as possible to Moat Cailin. They kept going at a fast pace and eventually reached the neck by nightfall, where it had been agreed that Jon would fly ahead to the Moat to check its defences before flying back. As he flew to Moat Cailin and looked down upon it he saw the direwolf banners of House Stark, plus his own banner (the white direwolf on a grey field with the three red headed dragon on black) flying high from the ramparts of all three towers, signalling that what Lord Walder had said was true, he flew back and told Robb, Edmure and the other men the news that Moat Cailin was back in their hands which led to much cheering and drinking.

The next day they were up before sunrise and marching, or in Jon’s case flying north toward Winterfell. It took them three days even at the fast pace they were marching to reach Winterfell the seat of Jon’s adopted family. But when he saw it from up high on Serrax’s back he felt like crying, the once great castle was now a smoking ruin, he once more cursed Bolton’s Bastard and promised to make the man pay for what he had done to his home, and to Bran and Rickon.

He brought Serrax down to land next to where Robb and the others had made camp, and they began to speak of what they would do to take back the castle.  “We cannot lay siege to it, for they will be able to hold up on the stores.” Robb said.

“Aye, we must engage them in battle.” Jon said.

“Why not send your dragon in Your Grace? That would get them to surrender surely?” Lord Umber said.

There was silence for a moment, and then the sound of a gate opening could be heard, and as Jon turned his head he saw a party of mounted men riding to where they were camped. “Who is that do you think?” Jon heard one of the men ask.

“Why its those Ironborn scum isn’t.” The Greatjon said.

_No its not Ironborn, its Bolton scum._ Thought Jon, and as the men came closer into view Jon heard the shocked gasps of his men as they saw the flayed man of Bolton being carried by one of the men. He heard one of the Lords swear- it might have been the Greatjon or it might have been Lord Karstark he was not sure- Jon turned round to see if Lord Bolton was anywhere in sight but as expected he had disappeared, calmly Jon turned to his men and said “Send people out to find Lord Bolton, make sure he does not escape. Ser Barristan, Ser Perwyn remains here with me. Let us see what Bolton’s Bastard has to say.”

Bolton’s Bastard and his party of men stopped about a yard in front of where Jon and the northern and riverlords were camped. He had a sneer on his face when he dismounted and approached them. He bowed mockingly and said “Ah Your Grace, Lord Stark. So nice to see you. It is rather unfortunate what happened to your brothers my lord, I did try my best to stop the Ironborn but they were too good and quick for me.”

Jon saw Robb glare at Ramsay Snow, and he himself had to all that he could to restrain from hitting the man. Instead he fixed the bastard with an icy glare and said “Quit the act Snow. We know it was you who burned Winterfell and killed my cousins. What is it you want, death or the wall?”

Snow had the nerve to laugh then, and said in a voice laced with sarcasm, “Why your grace you wound me. I have always been a faithful servant to the north, and was only acting on my Lord Father’s orders. But since you have offered terms let me do the same. If Lord Stark wants his castle back, he shall have to fight me in single combat. If he wins he gets Winterfell. If I win I get Winterfell and his lovely little Frey Bride.”

Jon saw Robb tense as well as the other northern lords, but then Robb said “Very well then. We duel till one of us has drawn first blood.”

Ramsay Snow smiled his mocking smile and said “Very good my lord.”

Jon pulled Robb aside and said “Are you sure about this Robb? The man is a known trickster who knows what his actual goal his.”

Lord Karstark said “Be careful of him my lord. You have said first blood but he will try and kill you.”

Robb merely nodded and drew Ice from its sheath before he stepped forward, as did Ramsay Snow. The men formed a circle round them, as they danced round each other both with their swords raised and drawn, neither man made the first move to strike, until Ramsay Snow kicked a patch of dirt at Robb and then whilst the dust was still in the air made a wild swing at him, Jon breathed a sigh of relief when Robb brought Ice up in the nick of time and blocked the swing. He pushed the sword away and then made his own attack, a flurry of swings some of which connected with Snow’s armour and dented it, others which were blocked by Snow’s sword and cause the steel to sing.

Both men continued their dance, circling round each other both breathing heavily, until Snow swung his sword once more and this time mainly due the force of the swing managed to strike Robb’s sword and then Robb’s armour, denting it quite badly. Robb recovered quickly though moving back, until he was almost at the edge of the circle, Snow of course followed Robb wishing to finish the Lord of Winterfell himself. When he was a sword’s width a way from Robb, Jon saw Robb feint to his left, drawing Snow’s sword point there but Robb quickly moved to the right before Snow’s sword could connect with anything, and whilst Snow was unbalanced Robb swung his sword and brought it crashing into Snow’s right side, breaking the armour there with the force of the blow.

A cheer went up amongst the northern and riverlords when they saw Ramsay Snow injured and bleeding. That only served to aggravate him further, he retaliated by swinging and hacking wildly trying to find some purchase that could give him the upper hand, though his attacks were wild there was a force behind them that allowed some of them to connect with Ice or with Robb’s armour denting it, and causing Robb’s old wounds to burst open and blood to become visible.  However for all his forceful blows Snow still lacked the patience for a well timed attack and soon had spent most of his energy hacking and slashing wildly, and though Robb was cut and bleeding in several places Snow himself was bleeding from the exposed wound to his right side and to a cut to his right eye.

Jon stepped forward then and said “This fight is over. Robb drew first blood, Snow you have forfeited any claim to Winterfell lay your sword down now and we shall forgive you and let you leave.”

Snow grunted and said “No I shall not bend until this Stark cunt is dead.” And with that he began to slash wildly at Robb cutting him again and again, but Robb was edging backwards and drawing Ramsay Snow further and further away from the centre and away from any patches of dirt, as well as tiring the man out. Eventually Ramsay Snow stopped cutting and hacking and stood there with his sword up and drawn breathing heavily, Robb looked a state cut and bleeding all over but he still had that determined look in his eyes. Robb shifted his weight around and then began a counter attack. Whereas Ramsay Snow had used brute force to attack Robb, Robb used skill and battle experience to attack Ramsay. Swinging in all the weak spots that he could find, and cutting Snow below his ears, his hands his chest and the finishing blow was the thrust through the throat, as Robb buried his sword into Bolton’s bastard’s throat, the man gurgled and did something that sounded like laughing. Jon saw Robb lean in closer keeping the weight of Ice buried in the bastard’s throat. Jon leaned in closer as well until he was near them both and could have sworn he heard the man say “Not dead, fled, and north. Stark cousins fled.” Robb pulled his sword out of Ramsay Snow’s throat and Jon watched as the man fell down onto the ground dead.

There was much cheering amongst the men then when the result became clear, Jon embraced Robb and then said in what Sansa had taken to calling his kingly voice “You needed to be treated Robb, I won’t have you dying from wounds. Maester Willam see to Lord Stark.”

The portly maester who travelled with the army nodded and said “Of course Your Grace.”

Jon then had men move Snow’s body away, and then said “Has anyone found Lord Bolton yet. Where is that treacherous son of a whore?”

It was Torrhen Karstark the newly made Lord of Casterly Rock and his brother Harrion who came forward holding Bolton under the arms, as the man bled from several cuts to his mouth and chest. “He tried to flee Your Grace,” Harrion said. “We caught him just as he was about to mount his horse.”

Jon nodded, “Thank you for catching and stopping this traitor.” Jon then turned and looked Bolton square in the eye. “And you my Lord what do you have to say for yourself? You would have sold us out to the Lions, and for what?”

Bolton said nothing only looked at Jon, until Jon lost patience and said “Well since you will not talk, perhaps something else might make you. It is often said in your house that a flayed man has no secrets is it not Lord Bolton?” Jon saw Bolton’s eyes widen in a comical fashion, and continued. “But what about a burned one I wonder?” He whistled and Serrax came walking over on a click of claws and wings. Jon looked at Lord Bolton then and said “Lord Bolton you are accused of treason and plotting the murder of your king and liege lord. You are accused of plotting the murders of Brandon and Rickon Stark. Do you have anything to say?”

Bolton remained silent his eyes on Serrax. Jon sighed and then said “Very well then I find you guilty of the above charges and sentence you to death.” He turned to look at Serrax, who was growling at Bolton, and said “Serrax,” The dragon looked at him and then Jon said “Ignis.” Serrax turned back to face Bolton, and roared before unleashing a jet of black fire that engulfed Bolton and made the man scream in pain and agony, until there was nothing left of him but ash. Jon then told Serrax to stop, and looked around grimly to see that the lords were looking at Bolton’s ashes with a look of fear in their eyes, Jon spoke loudly “Let this be a lesson to all of us. Traitors and oath breakers will not be tolerated. The Lion will resort to trickery to keep us from winning and getting justice for our dead. But will we let them?”

The lords shouted back “NO!” This was then followed by chants of “King Jon, Long Live King Jon!” And “SERRAX!”

Later after the body and ashes of Lord Bolton and his bastard had been cleared away and sent to the Dreadfort to be buried there. Jon and his men entered the gates of Winterfell  where Ramsay Snow’s men either bent the knee or were sent to the Wall. As Jon looked around Winterfell and saw the burnt towers and the broken buildings he felt a sense of loss engulf him and when he looked at Robb he knew that his cousin felt the same. Eventually though a council was called in what was left of the great hall and it was decided that they would spend a few days in Winterfell to rest and regroup before they would march on Deepwood Motte and remove the Ironborn that still held that castle.  It was decided that Robb would lead the assault along with Galbert and Robett Glover on Deepwood Motte and that Jon would ride Serrax and would burn the Ironborn ships docked in the shore of Sea Dragon Point, to prevent any Ironborn from escaping.

When the allotted day came, they marched from Winterfell with a grim determination to rid the land of Ironborn once and for all. Scouts were sent out the closer the got to the Motte to make sure none of the Ironborn heard or saw their approach and lived to tell the tale. One Ironborn that they captured told them that Asha Greyjoy, Theon’s sister held command of the Motte and she had some 1000 men with her there. Of Victarion Greyjoy the man knew nothing but that the man had not been present when Moat Cailin had been retaken.

Once that had been sorted Jon mounted Serrax in the dead of the night and flew over the Motte, the starry sky gave him some cover from some of the men on the walls and he managed to pass uninhibited to where he saw roughly thirty longships docked in all flying the Kraken banner of house Greyjoy proudly. Jon counted to three before urging Serrax to burn the ships, which he did readily. As Jon watched the black flames engulf and destroy one ship after the other he could have sworn he heard screams coming from the ships but tried to shake them from his mind, he was already plagued by nightmares enough as it was.

Eventually when there were no more ships left to burn, Jon turned Serrax around and flew back south for Deepwood Motte. When he arrived there he found the battle well under way in the morning light, from the litany of bodies strewn around the castle and the hill surrounding it Jon assumed that the Ironborn were near defeated. Jon brought Serrax down for landing on the top hill near the main castle and found it strewn with bodies. He saw Ser Barristan cut down one, two, three, four men at once and saw Ser Perwyn cut down man after man. When Serrax gave a roar however, the fighting on the hill and the surrounding area stopped, as all turned to look at him. Jon shouted “Ironborn give up. You are outnumbered and defeated, give up and bend the knee and you shall live. If not then you shall die. Where is Asha Greyjoy?”

When no one answered straight away Jon shouted it again and this time Serrax roared as well, “Where is Asha Greyjoy?” Eventually she was brought before him in chains, her face and hands bloodied, she was dragged before him by Dacey Mormont.

“Here is Asha Greyjoy, Your Grace.” Dacey said as she bowed.

Jon looked at the woman who was Theon’s sister and said, “Why do you keep fighting Lady Greyjoy? You are outnumbered.”

She gave him a mocking smile and said “We are Ironborn; we do no bend so easily.”

Before Jon could say anything Dacey stood forward and whispered in his ear, “She fought Lord Stark, Your Grace. He is grievously injured, though he took her hand, she nearly took his life had Greywind not knocked her leg off.”

Jon looked at Asha Greyjoy again and said “You refuse to surrender is that correct Lady Greyjoy?”

She looked at him defiantly and said “Aye, we are a free people now Greenlander.”

Jon sighed then and said “Aye but not for much longer, Serrax Ignis.” And Asha Greyjoy became the second victim to fall to Serrax’s flames.

* * *

**Davos**

_This is folly, attacking Maidenpool. We should be allying ourselves with King Jon not fighting a losing battle. That red woman is bad news for Lord Stannis. She told him that she could help him win at the Battle of the Blackwater, but when it came to it she saw not the wildfire and how it would destroy his ships, nor did she see the Lannisters and Tyrells attacking him from the rear. Her red god is useless; the Seven are punishing us for not siding with our rightful king._

_This is folly we only have 1000 men and 7 ships, we do not have enough to attack King’s Landing again, and once either King Jon or the Lannisters learn that we have attacked Maidenpool they will send men up to take us in the rear and then we shall all die. Stannis is not in his right mind, I must get the red woman away from him but how? Why does he continue to listen to her when all she has said has gone wrong? She said that after Renly’s death he would be seated on the Iron Throne by now, but he is not. Her false god has cost Lord Stannis his honour and his pride, her false god has cost me my sons. And yet here I am taking her to shore so she can give birth to a shadow baby once again the same that killed Ser Cortnay Penrose, and gave us Storm’s End. Seven forgive me._

_Davos watched horrified as the red woman Melisandre moaned and groaned and forced a creature from her legs that looked like Stannis Baratheon but was not. He watched horrified as the shadow creature moved from the boat and the shore and slithered its way toward Maidenpool and went up the walls and toward the castle where Lord Mooton lived.  Lord Stannis had sent envoys demanding that Lord Mooton open his gates and allow Stannis and his men through as their rightful king. Lord Mooton had refused stating that the only king he recognised was King Jon Targaryen, and that he would never open his gates to an usurper nor a red witch who followed a demon god. Lord Stannis had bristled at that and had promised retribution for Lord Mooton, though Davos was not sure whether or not Lord Stannis was really Lord Stannis anymore. Gone was the man who was a firm believer in honour and duty, gone was the man who was broad shouldered and strong of mind and body. In his place had come a man who believed in human sacrifice to achieve a throne that was not his, and a man who looked so gaunt and devoid of any emotion or life Davos thought that he was now a ghost, and that the minute the Red Woman left his side he would wither away and die._

_Stannis Baratheon had become a mere shadow of his former self, he spent more time with Lady Melisandre than he did with his own wife and daughter, and there were whispers that Lady Melisandre often shared Lord Stannis’s bed and was his true queen. On Dragonstone at Lady Melisandre’s insistence Stannis had burnt Lord Florent alive, simply because the man had written to Lord Tywin and offered the hand of Stannis’s daughter Shireen to Prince Tommem in return for Stannis becoming Lord of Storm’s End and Dragonstone and refuting his claims about the legitimacy of Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommem. Stannis had bristled at that when he had found out what Lord Alester had done and had had the man imprisoned, Davos knew this for he too had been imprisoned for seeking to kill the red woman for her corrupting influence and part in his sons’ deaths. He had been freed and had been named King’s Hand but Davos knew not how to make Stannis see that he was not the King, not when King Jon was the rightful king had been declared the rightful king in front of the whole of King’ landing by Eddard Stark and was winning the war against the Lannisters. Stannis was too deeply enthralled to Melisandre and no longer listened to reason._

_So when news reached them that Lord Mooton had died, and that the city was in chaos, Stannis Baratheon gave orders for his men to scale the city walls, and Davos went with them. They scaled the walls and cut down the sentries and other guards that normally patrolled the walls, and broke open the gates allowing the main bulk of Stannis’s host to come through to the city where, any who stood in Stannis’s way were cut down, houses were sacked and shops plundered, in the midst of it all Davos watched as Stannis Baratheon rode like a man possessed to Castle Mooton, which Davos saw was trying desperately to close their gates, but a word from Melisandre and the gates flew open and the men trying to close them died, or were killed, Davos was never sure._

_Davos followed Stannis into the castle and watched silently as he entered the great hall of Castle Mooton, and sat himself down on the throne where every Lord Mooton had sat since the beginning of time, and declared himself the rightful king. Davos watched silently unable to do anything when Lord Mooton’s daughter was brought before Stannis beaten and naked, and when Melisandre whispered in Stannis’s ear that for her red god to grant Stannis true victory she needed to be given to him, Davos was helpless to stop Stannis from ordering  a fire built and lit, and he watched helplessly as Lord Mooton’s daughter the last of her line was given to the flames, and as her screams echoed around the courtyard, and the Queen’s men began chanting their prayers to their red god,  Davos saw Stannis Baratheon walk away from the fire and back into the great hall. As Lady Mooton’s screams began to die down Davos could have sworn he heard the roaring of dragons in the distance._

* * *

**Benjen**

_He had gone on a ranging to find out why the Wildlings were gathering in so great a number. A number not seen since the days of Raymund Redbeard. He had gone to Winterfell when Ned had sent him a raven informing him of King Robert’s impending visit, to go and speak to Ned about Mance Rayder and the possible threat he might pose to the North. Ned had agreed that if it came to it the North would be rallied and they would march to help hold the wall. Then he had gone back to the Wall without his nephew, without Lya’s boy, much to Ned’s nervousness for Jon had begun to show many of Lya’s traits as well as some of that fool Rhaegar’s and both he and Ned were worried what that could mean for Jon._

_But Jon had said he wished to stay and help Robb run Winterfell, and so Benjen had come back to Castle Black with Lord Tyrion. Then Lord Mormont had called for him and told him off strange occurrences happening north of the wall and the non return of Wymar Royce, he had agreed to go scouting with a few men to see what was wrong.  It had quickly become obvious why Wymar Royce and his company had not returned.  Halfway through the Haunted Forest they had found the remains of the horses Wymar and his men had used on their ranging. Of the riders there was not a sign, at least not until they had reached the very edge of the forest and they had been set upon by dead things, more specifically dead rangers. It had been quite a fight, no matter how many times the creatures were struck they did not go down, and by the time they had figured out that only fire could finish them three rangers had been killed and had risen up as the undead. The fires had been quick short things that Benjen and his men had just about managed to get working, and by then day had come and the creatures had retreated to wherever they had come from._

_They had then stumbled wounded and weary to Craster’s Keep where the old man had seen that they were fed and had a place to rest albeit grudgingly, the next day they had headed off further north on their travels. At the Fist of the First Men they had come across scattered clothes and other such things belonging to Wildlings. That had been the second time that the wights had attacked them. They had set up their tents for the night and were just about to turn in when an unnatural cold had settled around them and mist had drifted in from the west and then the wights had struck killing three men before anyone knew what was happening. When it had become clear what it was that was attacking them, Benjen and the remaining men had lit their torches and put flames onto them and when they saw movement in the shadows threw their torches in that direction, it seemed to work for there were no more Wight attacks that night. The next morning they counted their losses and burned their dead and moved on._

_That was when the others attacked them. They came upon them in their droves forcing Benjen and his men back and massacring any of the men not quick enough to make it back to the Fist. Benjen had watched horrified as the White Walkers killed men and then flung them aside like they were no more than rag dolls and watched as the men who had been his sworn brothers had risen up from the dead and had attacked the Fist. With little to no wood left Benjen watched as his brothers were massacred and killed rising up all around him as wights, just as he thought that his day had come, the sun rose and the Others and wights all disappeared back into the shadows._

_Wounded, tired and cold Benjen had beat a hasty retreat back south, his horse had died midway between the fist and Craster’s keep and so he had had to walk for many a mile back to the village of Whitetree. It was nigh on deserted when he entered it cold and close to death, but there was one woman and her child left in the village, a woman named Lya, Benjen remembered she had been a healer and had seen to his wounds and had made him stay in bed whilst he recovered. Eventually he was well enough to continue his journey south and this time Lya and her child accompanied him. They avoided Craster’s Keep on the journey south but every time they stopped they saw more and more wildlings marching north, Benjen wanted to shout at them that they were mad to be marching north they should be marching south or fleeing.  But then Lya had explained to him that Mance Rayder was amassing a wildling host, one of the biggest in living memory and they were to be marching south to take the Wall, and then head further south away from the cold and creatures of the night._

_After three weeks of walking and nearly dying Benjen and Lya and her child arrived at the gates of Castle Black tired beyond belief. They were allowed into the Castle only for Maester Aemon to inform him of the great ranging that was being prepared by Bowen Marsh to find him and discover why two dead brothers of the Night’s Watch had risen up in the dead of the night and killed Lord Commander Mormont.  In his tiredness Benjen knew not what happened next only that he remembered telling Aemon about the assembling wildling host and the things he had seen at the Fist, and that Bowen Marsh would need to be warned and word would need to be sent to Winterfell._

_He thought he might have imagined the look of sympathy that crossed Aemon’s face when he mentioned Winterfell, or misheard him when he said that Jon had crowned himself king and was marching on King’s Landing. After all he had been close to passing out when he spoke to Aemon and had duly passed out afterwards._

* * *

**Three Eyed Crow**

_There was darkness surrounding him always now. There was darkness in the cave where he resided, darkness in the trees outside, darkness engulfing the world outside.  There was nothing he could but wait for the chosen one to come, to arrive on the back of the sleeping giant and with the cranongmen for company. They would have to travel through dark lands and face many hardships but if they made it the boy would be the one to lead the world through the darkness along with his cousin, the one whose song was that of ice and fire._

_Oh yes he still remembered the boy and the prophecy. He had not been a man of prophecy in his younger days, he had never seen the use for the words on some dusty old tome when he had had a kingdom to run, and rebellions to crush. No he had never been a believer in the prophecy that had haunted his family since the days of Daenys the dreamer. Not like Aerys had, but then again Aerys had believed in many things, and since he had become one with the trees he too had seen things that had since come to pass. He had seen the downfall of his family through the second Aerys madness, and Rhaegar’s folly. He had seen the trees burn with live and drink the blood of his family as Egg had tried to bring the dragons back to live at Summerhall._

_He had been a man of the black one, sent north by Egg as part of the honour guard for Aemon, and he had risen high oh yes, he always rose high when he set his mind to something, in his time as a man of the black he never once missed the weight of burden that had always followed him King’s Landing, there he had been suspected and never fully trusted, the bastard kinslayer with the strange eyes but with the black on he was just another brother, another member of a cause that had forgotten its original purpose. The only thing he ever truly missed about King’s Landing was the feel of his Seastar in his arms her lips on his, the feel of waking up next to her in the morning.  He knew she was still alive somewhere out there in the vast world, her mother was an enchantress as was she. She was still alive just as he was._

_He had discovered his true calling one day whilst out on a ranging trying to quell the Wildlings who had grown more and more ambitious during his time at the wall. He had gotten separated from the main party and had gone off wandering deep into the Haunted Forest until he had come across a cave, a deep and voluminous cave. He had thought then that the cave was calling out to him, whispering his name like a seduction it was only later that he learnt that the children had been calling him. The children of the Forest thought dead for eons had lived on in this cave, waiting for him to come, no one had come looking for him after his disappearance the children had explained that the men thought him dead, killed by wildlings. In actual fact he spent the next twenty years learning and perfecting the art of green seeing through the trees._

_Though his art came with a price as all things did. He could see into the distant past and recall things that had happened long before he had been born, he could see things as they would happen in the future or as they could happen in the future. He could see things as they happened in the present, yet he could not change them he could only watch them unfold, he watched helpless as Aegon (Egg they had called him when he was a boy) foolishly listened to that woodswitch and allowed her to trick him into creating a fire so strong Summerhall burned to the ground killing Egg and his son, leaving the crown in the hands of Jahaerys and Aerys. He watched helplessly as Aerys descended into madness, and as Duskendale occurred and the Lion plotted against the Dragon, and the  Rhaegar, the kingdom’s best hope and the restoring glory for House Targaryen had descended into his own elegant madness once he had found the prophecy and his own girl to fulfil it. He watched as Rhaegar took the Stark girl with sweet words and loving caresses. He watched as Aerys burned two wolves to death, and called for the third wolf to die. He watched as the Wolf, the Stag and the Falcon rebelled joined by the Trout and he watched as the Dragon lost and lost, until Rhaegar was dead and Aerys and his grandchildren were killed by the Lions, as vengeance for many years of slights. He turned his attention to the sun kingdom and watched as the Prince was born, the one whose song was of ice and fire. He watched the prince grow and kept him safe._

_He watched as the Third Wolf put his family back together and watched as the Broken Boy was born, and knew, felt it in his gut that the Broken Boy would be the one to succeed him, the boy would be the one to help the Prince fulfil his destiny.  Such knowledge came at a price though, he could no longer remember what is mother looked like, nor could he remember what it was like to make love, no all he saw or knew was the trees and visions they gave him. But soon his waiting would be over, his pain would end, soon the Broken Boy, who was not broken at all would come and he could rest easy, for the world was about to be plunged into darkness and the broken boy would need to know all he could to help the Prince, restore the light.  Through Ice and Fire he swore._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	18. Deliver Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big expanse of time included in this chapter.

**Jon**

The raven had come from Castle Black asking for aid against an impending Wildling attack. The northern lords who made up his council urged that they should march for Castle Black at once, for the Watch failed to hold from the north it would be their lands that would be swarmed by Wildlings who would rape and plunder to their heart’s content. The southern lords, Lord Edmure prominent amongst them had argued that it would be more prudent to march back south, for with the Boltons dead and the Ironborn gone from the North, they were in a much better position to take on the Lannisters and the Tyrells. There was much arguing in the great hall of Deepwood Motte, neither northern nor southern lord led by Lord Umber and Lord Edmure would budge and an inch on their respective stance. Many cups of wine were consumed and many a meal consumed before Jon had had enough of the discussion, he did not have Ghost with him to show his frustration, for Ghost had remained in Riverrun to help protect Sansa alongside Ser Leyton Appleton, but he had heard enough.

“We shall march north my lords and that is final.” Jon said in a tone that brooked no argument. He went on “If I wish to rule, then I must help my people, and the Night’s Watch are part of the people I mean to rule. They have asked for aid, and what sort of King would I be if I did not give them it when there is so much to be had. Let the Lannisters ponder my next move, we march with haste to Castle Black my lords.”

And so they had marched, Jon riding Serrax had kept a pace with the marching of his men who were led by Robb and Lord Edmure. The autumn had been a short one and the first snows of winter were beginning to fall, as they left Deepwood Motte, roughly 4,000 northmen and 6,000 rivermen with Lord Tarly and Lord Yronwood and their men having been left in Riverrun after the weddings at the Twins to defend Riverrun. The march took them three weeks through snow and hilly terrain. When they eventually reached Castle Black Jon found the remenants of a battle that had clearly been fought only that morning. He and his men had been allowed to room in Castle Black and the nearby land, and then Jon, and his lords had gone to speak with Lord Steward Bowen Marsh and Jon and Robb’s uncle Benjen about the state of things at the Wall.

They met in what Jon was told was the smith Donal Noye’s chambers. They were sparse but able to fit Jon, his lords plus Benjen Stark, Bowen Marsh and Donal Noye himself.  What they had to say was grim indeed. “Lord Commander Mormont was killed in his sleep by two dead black brothers.” Said Bowen Marsh.

Silence and then Robb asked “Dead black brothers? Are you sure it was not some living assassin?”

Bowen Marsh shook his head and said “I know it sounds mad my lord but that is what it was. Two dead black brothers we had found who had been part of your uncle’s ranging group, woke in the middle of the night with eyes as blue as ice and made their way to Lord Commander Mormont’s rooms and strangled him to death.”

Their uncle Benjen nodded, “Aye what Bowen says is true. My ranging party was attacked by parties of these dead things on the way to and from the Fist of the First Men. And there are worse things approaching us. Things long thought dead. White Walkers.”

Had any other man said that, Jon would have laughed and called that man mad, but the serious and weary expression on his uncle’s face convinced him otherwise. “And you believe that the Wildlings led by this Mance Rayder are marching south in great numbers to get away from the White Walkers?”

Benjen nodded. “Aye, that is what I saw evidence of when I was trying to make my way back to Castle Black.”

Jon sighed and asked “How many and when will they be here?”

Benjen was silent, but Bowen Marsh said “When we went scouting we found evidence courtesy of the Halfhand that Mance Rayder had managed to muster some 20,000 Wildlings together. The ruins of the fight you saw at your arrival, were the first 5,000 wildlings he had sent ahead to test our defences, Your Grace.”

“20,000 wildlings and 5,000 dead today alone? When will they next attack?” Robb asked.

Benjen replied, “We are not sure. But we do believe that it will most likely be tonight and early tomorrow morning from what our scouts have told us, they still have a great number out there.”

“Very well, we must prepare and have men standing guard on the walls ready for their assault.” Jon stated. Benjen nodded and they made the necessary arrangements. Once the arrangements were made Bowen Marsh and the lords left Jon, Robb and Benjen alone. Benjen looked at them both and sighed, then said “So this it eh. Lord Robb and King Jon.”

Both boys looked slightly uncomfortable but Benjen continued, “I may have been gone a long time beyond the wall, but when I returned Maester Aemon spent a good while filling me in on what you two had been up to. Declaring war on the Lannisters, capturing the Kingslayer, declaring Jon King, marriages, hatching a dragon eh. Been up to quite a bit then.”

Jon and Robb smiled sheepishly and said nothing, Benjen continued “Well so long as you both live and survive this war and the one to come, then I suppose I should wish you well.”

They both nodded and then rose to leave, but before they could Benjen whispered something so softly they both almost didn’t hear it “Your parents would be proud of you both, I know they would.”  They left Benjen to think on events and to brood on the past.

The moon was not even half way risen when the sentinels on the wall spotted the advancing Wildling host. From up high on the wall, they looked like ants, a huge swarm of ants advancing towards the Wall at a quick pace. Jon strained to see but then gasped “Are those mammoths? And giants I see?”

His uncle Benjen chuckled “Aye they are Your Grace. Your big dragon should take care of them though.” Jon nodded still slightly in shock about seeing giants and mammoths. Though as he had to quickly put those thoughts from his mind as he went down the winch cage and got up onto Serrax’s back. He waited for the first signs of battle to reach him where he was, when he heard the horn blowing and the trumpeting coming from the Wildlings on the other side of the wall, he felt Serrax tense underneath him, though he did not move from his position. It was only when he heard the orders coming from the wall to pour the boiling oil down onto the wildlings that he urged Serrax to move on the ground.

He heard the screaming of the wildlings as the boiling oil came pouring down onto them, and they were burnt alive. He saw from up high on Serrax’s back as the wildlings made room for the giants riding on their mammoths to batter the Wall, and the gates. He watched as one of the gates to the east nearly gave way, but then the giants were felled by multiple arrows, and as they fell, he felt the ground shake. He remained stationery as was the plan, and watched as the men of the watch and the northmen and rivermen poured boiling oil onto the wildlings and those that avoided the oil were felled by arrows and spears, none of the wildlings made too close to the wall but the giants and their mammoths were a different story. They advanced toward the wall, and managed to knock several of the men on the wall off and send them plummeting to their deaths, they were also battering the doors down with their rams and the mammoths bulk. Jon saw a few of the doors beginning to groan under the weight and pressure of the attacks, and shouted for some of his men to be prepared to deal with giants.

Just as he had shouted for his men to be ready, he heard bellowing and turned and watched as a giant stumbled into the main yard of Castle Black, a gaping hole left where there had once been a double door. The giant swung its club blindly and took down several men, behind it wildlings poured into the yard, swinging and hacking at whoever they came across. Jon could feel Serrax tensing underneath him could hear him crying out for blood, but Jon kept a hold of him, restrained him, barely. He was needed to wait until the last possible moment before unleashing Serrax on the Wildlings. As he waited he saw the giant that had broken one of the doors fall down to the ground dead, felled by a dozen arrows and spears to the chest and head. But there were still dozens of wildlings flooding in through the hole the giant had left. To his left he heard yet another loud crack as yet another doorway was broken open and two giants burst into the yard swinging and killing men at will, just as the wildlings continued to pour through.

Jon could not see Robb or Edmure, or Ser Barristan or Ser Perwyn, they had all been taken in by the tide of battle and were busy fighting the wildlings, whilst he their king sat rooted on top of his dragon unable to move because of a battle plan they had all agreed upon. The plan had been simple when spoken, the men of the watch and the men Jon had brought would engage the wildlings and their giants, and then when it seemed like they were about to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers Jon would appear on Serrax. The wildlings would likely either flee, or be killed by the flames Serrax would unleash. Serrax was mainly there to deal with the giants and the mammoths. Looking at the battle unfolding before him now though, Jon wondered if their plan had been a wise one, it seemed as if they were about to be overwhelmed very soon, sooner than anticipated, and then they would be lost for Serrax would not be able to burn all those who came into the yard without risking damage to some of their own.

When the main entrance way to Castle Black from beyond the wall began to creek though, Jon decided to act. Spurring Serrax on, Jon gripped the reins as Serrax unleashed a terrifying roar and surged into the air. As Serrax spread his wings, Jon saw from where he was that the Wildlings were already beginning to break at the sight of Serrax and his massive frame. Tightening his hold on the dragon with his legs, Jon mentally urged Serrax on and when he saw the black flames being unleashed from his dragon and heard the anguished cries of the wildlings, their giants and the mammoths he knew that the tide was beginning to turn in their favour.

When he was sure that the immediate danger to Castle Black was through, he spurred Serrax on and past the Wall and onto the fields beyond it. There his heart nearly dropped there were thousands more wildlings and giants approaching, there was no way that they could kill all of them, though they could try. He urged Serrax to fly higher into the air, and when the dragon did Jon mentally nudged him and Serrax gave another roar, and then began unleashing jet upon jet of black flame. Jon watched transfixed at the scene that was unfurling beneath him, it was like a primal ritual come to life, the ground beneath him which had previously been occupied by wildlings and giants and mammoths, was now bathed in fire, black fire. It made him feel strangely powerful, god like even.

The trance was broken though when the flames stopped, and Jon blinked hard and saw that the ground was now littered with ash, the ash that had once been Wildlings and giants and their animals. There was nothing left on the ground now but ash, and the ground was stained black from Serrax’s flames. Jon felt something strange filling him, it was almost like a sense of horror that he had caused that, that destruction had been caused by him. He was still in shock as Serrax turned round and flew back into the courtyard of Castle Black, where he was greeted with the scene of the brothers of the Night’s Watch and the North and Rivermen dragging their dead from the battlements or from the ground, and lighting funeral pyres and saying their prayers, he saw injured men being helped to the maesters. As he dismounted from Serrax, he spied Robb and Smalljon helping a big man who seemed unconscious toward one of the army’s maesters. Jon jumped down and made to run toward them but found his way blocked by two giants laid flat on the ground pierced by multiple arrows and spears, and burning. Jon stood there for a moment feeling sick and horrified at the amount of death he had witnessed and caused today and wondering why after nearly two years of war, he still was so badly affected by it.

Much later after the bodies had been burnt and repairs had begun on the doors and the gateways, Jon found himself sat in the Lord Commander’s solar with his main commanders and his uncle Benjen and the man he assumed would be Maester Aemon one of his last remaining relatives from his father’s side. Their losses had been heavy, many thousands of men had died and the men Jon had brought from the south were the main casualties, along with the wildlings and giants. His uncle Benjen spoke of how once the wildlings realised that the thing burning their fellows to dust was a dragon they turned tail and fled. “But they will be  back. Perhaps it not so great a number as this time, but they shall be back and we will need to be ready.”

Jon promised to send what aid he could, and then talk turned to what they should do now. Stay at the Wall and wait for yet another Wildling attack or march south. “Why not sail south, you could take ships from Eastwatch and to Maidenpool or to the bite.”

Jon grimaced, “Would that we could. But the Lannisters control much of the sea, and besides the Vale is of uncertain loyalty true Lord Royce brought 20,000 swords to our cause but Lady Lysa is still capable of demanding he bring them back. Plus we heard that Lord Baelish had been sent by the Lannisters to bring the Vale into their cause. No we shall march south once the men are rested."

* * *

**Davos**

_He had heard the roaring of dragons but it seemed that he was the only one who took this as a bad sign. Lady Melisandre said that the roaring was the approval from her red god for Stannis, and that he was showing that he approved of Stannis’s move to take Maidenpool from the would be usurper. Stannis’s men took heart from that and cheered loudly when she said what she said and Stannis drew his sword from its sheath and they saw the unnatural glow that emanated from it. Lord Stannis though did not seem happy with the taking of the city, and seemed to withdraw further into himself. Davos was concerned, surely if he felt like the victory was justified he would have been celebrating, not in the extroverted way his men were, but he would have celebrated all the same. Now though he simply seemed not register the cheering of his men, the chants that they shouted calling him Azor Azahi and the Prince who was promised._

_No the Stannis Baratheon that Davos saw before him was a pale shadow of the man who had held Storm’s End for a whole year against the Tyrell Siege, who had led the royal fleet against the Ironborn, who had fought nobly and proudly at the Battle of the Blackwater. No the man that Davos saw before him looked like Stannis Baratheon, had the same build, same balding hair, but there was no fire in his eyes, no hunger for what was right, for what was honourable. There was only a blank, glazed look to his eyes now, and he had become so gaunt that you could see the bones in his shoulders peeking through even when he wore armour. Stannis did not stay for long during the celebrations and instead withdrew, to gods alone knew where, for it would not certainly be the Sept. Not with the red woman present and whispering poison into his and the men’s ears._

_Davos was surprised then when a few hours later, his son Devan who was a squire for Stannis came to his room and said that the man wanted to see him. Davos followed his son through the hallways of Castle Mooton, until he found himself standing in the doorway of the room Stannis had chosen for himself, which Davos noted was not the Lord’s room._

_He announced himself and heard Stannis bid him enter. What he saw when he entered horrified him. Stannis was spread eagled on the bed, bleeding profusely from several- were those wounds or gashes? - to the chest and arms and face. But it was not blood that was coming out of his skin; no it was some sort of pus like substance. It hit him then, Stannis Baratheon was dying. That must be why he seemed so withdrawn and looked to be wasting away since the Blackwater, because he was. He was wasting away right before their very eyes and no one else knew it. He quickly wondered if the red woman knew and if this was her work. But then Stannis spoke, and Davos could not  do anything except listen to his liege speak._

_His voice sounded horse with disuse, his lips were chapped but still he spoke with a commanding tone. “Ah Ser Davos, you came. Come pull that chair closer, I must needs speak with you.”_

_Davos pulled the chair next to Stannis’s bed closer and sat down waiting to hear what his liege would say. Stannis coughed deeply and Davos saw that when his chest contracted the pus oozed out in a deathly blue colour. Stannis spoke once more “I see that you have noticed the wounds on my skin Ser Davos. But I wonder if you can tell where I got them from.”_

_Davos hesitated for a moment, wondering if Stannis wanted him to tell him what he actually thought or tell him some sweet little lie, but then discounted the thought, Stannis Baratheon may have lost much of what had made him who he was but he still despised being lied to. Davos took a deep breath before saying “The Lady Melisandre, I presume?”_

_Stannis made a noise that sounded somewhere between a chuckle and a cough, but his whole body shook with the effort and more pus oozed out of the cracks in his skin, painting the sheets around him blue and grey. Once Stannis had stopped he shuddered then began talking once more, though this time his voice barely audible so Davos had to lean in to hear him speak. “Yes right you are Ser. She tells me that to become her chosen one, that I must needs suffer first before I can claim the throne. But now I know she lies. I am dying Ser Davos, whether I die now or in battle makes no matter, for I will die either way. The question is why have I got these wounds. The answer, the gods, those same gods I burnt at Dragonstone have seen fit to curse me for breaking a vow, a solemn vow to my wife, and to the king, the rightful king. I slept with Melisandre to create the baby that killed my brother. I meant to burn my brother’s bastard. But for what a throne of iron. No I will die, but I will not die a oathbreaker.”_

_Before Davos could reply to Stannis however, Devan burst into the room panting and sweating. It was obvious that he had run here. “Sorry Your Grace, father. But you must come urgently. The Lady Melisandre has asked both of you.”_

_Davos helped a grumbling Stannis up and out of the bed, and helped him as he buttoned his shirt and as they both followed Devan out onto the battlements, Davos began smelling something that smelled awfully like burning, he wondered at that. “My lady, you wished to see us.” Davos said when he saw Melisandre waiting for them next to one of the battlements. The ruby at her throat was pulsing, and thrumming and it still unnerved him._

_She turned around when he spoke, and smiled at him and said “Ah Ser Davos, Your Grace. Look at this city full of its traitors and false gods who would deny their rightful king and saviour. Look how it burns, R’Hllor in his wisdom has seen fit to reward His Grace with the dragons needed to destroy the darkness.”_

_“Dragons? What madness do you speak of woman. The dragons are all dead.” Stannis snapped, that he was still able to speak was a wonder to Davos._

_Melisandre smiled, and spoke once more in a loud and clear voice, “Why Your Grace, the dragons in the sky, the white and green that fly high above us, burning this traitorous city to the ground. They have come for you Your Grace, for they are yours to claim as the chosen one.”_

_Just as she finished speaking Davos heard a shrill cry come from up on high, and watched horrified but unable to move as a massive  white dragon ridden by a girl with pale blonde hair and violet eyes, dove towards them breathing fire, and with blood in its eyes. The last thing Davos Seaworth saw before the fire engulfed him was the ruby at Melisandre’s throat pulse and thrum madly._

* * *

**Catelyn**

_Let the kings of winter have their cold crypt under the earth, Catelyn thought. The Tullys drew their strength from the river, and it was to the river they returned when their lives had run their course._

_They laid Lord Hoster in a slender wooden boat, clad in shining silver armour, plate and mail. His cloak was spread beneath him, rippling blue and red. His surcoat was divided blue and red as well. A trout, scaled in silver and bronze, crowned the crest of the greathelm they placed beside his head. On his chest they placed a painted wooden sword, his fingers curled about its hilt. Mail gauntlets hid his wasted hands, and made him look almost strong again. His massive oak and iron shield was left by his left side, his hunting horn to his right. The rest of the boat was filled with driftwood and kindling and scraps of parchment and stones to make it heavy in the water. His banner flew from the prow, the leaping trout of Riverrun._

_Seven were chosen to push the funereal boat to the water in honour of the seven faces of god. Jon was one, Lord Hoster’s liege Lord. With him were, Robb, the lords Blackwood, Bracken, Vance and Mallister, Ser Marq Piper and Ser Raynald Westerling who had arrived that morning from the Crag to bring Lady Jeyne back to her home._

_The seven launched Lord Hoster from the water stair, wading down the steps as the portcullis was winched upward. Jason Mallister and Tytos Blackwood, at the prow stood chest deep in the river to guide it on its way._

_Catelyn and her daughters watched from the battlements, waiting and watching as they had waited and watched so many times before. Beneath her, the swift wild Tumblestone plunged like a spear into the side of the broad Red Fork, its blue- white current churning like the muddy red-brown flow of the greater river. A morning mist hung over the water, as thin as gossamer and the wisps of memory._

_Bran and Mother will be waiting for him, Catelyn thought sadly, as once I used to wait. Jon and Robb had come back from the north a few days past bringing with them news of Roose Bolton and his bastard’s deaths for attempted treasons. They had also brought with them her little babe, Rickon whom she had thought lost to her forever, had hidden with Osha the wildling and Bran and the Reed Children when the battle for Winterfell had raged outside, and when Bolton’s bastard had betrayed them they had hidden in the crypts and the split up in the Wolfswood, Rickon and Osha going north to Last Hearth, Bran and the Reeds were still unfound, though there was some small part of her that hoped, desperately that her Bran was still alive._

_The slim boat drifted out from under the red stone arch of the Water Gate, picking up speed as it was caught in the headlong rush of the Tumblestone and pushed out into the tumult where the waters met. As the boat emerged from beneath the high sheltering walls of the castle, its square sail filled with wind, and Catelyn saw sunlight flashing on her father’s helm. Lord Hoster Tully’s rudder held true, and he sailed serenely down the centre of the channel, into the rising sun._

_“Now,” her uncle urged. Beside him her brother Edmure- Lord Edmure now in truth, and how long would that take to grow used to?- knocked an arrow to his bowstring. His squire held a brand to its point. Edmure waited until the flame caught, then lifted the great bow, drew the string to his ear, and let fly. With a deep thrum, the arrow sped upward. Catelyn followed its flight with her eyes and heart, until it plunged into the water with a soft hiss, well astern of Lord Hoster’s boat._

_Edmure cursed softly. “The wind,” he said pulling a second arrow. “Again.” The brand kissed the oil-soaked rag behind the arrowhead, the flames went licking up, Edmure lifted, pulled, and released. High and far the arrow flew. Too far. It vanished in the river a dozen yards beyond the boat, its fire winking out in an instant. A flush was creeping up Edmure’s neck, red as his beard. “Once more,” he commanded, taking a third arrow from the quiver. He is as tight as a bowstring, Catelyn thought._

_Ser Brynden must have thought the same thing. “Let me, my lord,” he offered._

_“I can do it,” Edmure insisted. He let them light the arrow, jerked the bow up, took a deep breath, and drew back the arrow. For a long moment he seemed to hesitate while the fire crept up the shaft, crackling. Finally he released. The arrow flashed up and up and finally curved down again falling, falling... and hissing past the billowing sail._

_A narrow miss, no more than a handspan, and yet a miss. “The others take it!” He swore. The boat was almost out of range, drifting in and out among the river mists. Wordless, Edmure thrust the bow at his uncle._

_“Swiftly,” Ser Brynden said. He knocked an arrow, held it steady for the brand, drew and released before Catelyn was quite sure that the fire had caught... but as the shot rose, she saw the flames trailing through the air, a pale orange pennon. The boat had vanished in the mists. Falling, the flaming arrow was swallowed up as well... but only for a heartbeat. Then, sudden as a hope, they saw the red bloom flower. The sails took fire, and the fog glowed pink and orange. For a moment Catelyn saw the outline of the boat clearly, wreathed in leaping flames._

_Watch for me, little cat, she could hear him whisper._

_Catelyn reached out blindly, groping for her brother’s hand, but Edmure had moved away, to stand alone on the highest point of the battlements. Her uncle Brynden took her hand instead, twining his strong fingers through hers. Together they watched the little fire grow smaller as the burning boat receded into the distance._

_And then it was gone...drifting downriver still, perhaps, or broken up and sinking. The weight of his armour would carry Lord Hoster down to rest in the soft mud of the riverbed, in the watery halls where the Tullys held eternal court, with schools of fish their last attendants._

_No sooner had the burning boat vanished from their sight than Edmure walked off. Catelyn would have liked to embrace him, if only for a moment to sit for an hour or a night or the turn of the moon to speak of the dead and mourn. Yet she knew as well as he that this was not the time; he was the Lord of Riverrun now, and his knights were falling in around him, murmuring condolences and promises of fealty, walling him off from something as small as a sister’s grief._

_Her uncle escorted her and her daughters down from the battlements, to where Jon and Robb stood waiting. Jon embraced her first then it was Robb who embraced her. Rickon stood shyly to the side with the wildling woman Osha, that he was still so hesitant around his family broke her heart, but eventually after some prompting from Osha he ran and buried his face in her skirts, mumbling “I’m sorry for your loss mama.”_

_Catelyn brushed a stray curl from his hair and said “So am I sweetling, so am I.” When Rickon ran back to Osha, she tried to keep the feelings of jealousy aside, it was only natural that he feel more comfortable with her than with his own mother, for she had been gone for two years now, and Osha had always been there whilst she had not._

_Catelyn turned round to see Jon and Sansa walking together holding hands but not talking, the two she knew had had an argument about something or the other when Jon had come back. She watched long enough to see Ser Raynald approach Jon and Sansa, and say something that caused Jon to lean forward, and suddenly Jon was lying on the floor clutching his stomach whilst blood poured out of it, and Ser Raynald had fled from the scene like a man on the run. And in the ensuing chaos, swords were drawn as Ser Barristan, Ser Perwyn and Ser Leyton all advanced forward to chase Ser Raynald, and then arrows were flying through the air and some of the men who had come to pay their respects to her father were lying bleeding on the ground, Catelyn took hold of Arya’s hand and led her as quickly back to the castle as possible whilst she saw Robb and Edmure carrying Jon back inside. When they entered the main courtyard she looked around for Sansa. But could not see her._

_She heard screaming and turned to look out of one of the peepholes in the portcullis to see a giant of a man, riding away from them, Sansa held in front of him, crimson red banners of House Lannister flapping alongside him._

* * *

**Tyrion**

King’s Landing grew more and more into a sense of despair each day. The common people were gathering in the streets proclaiming that the day of judgement would soon be upon them and that the Seven would descend to Earth and slay all those who had wronged them. This surprisingly enough included Tyrion and most of the Lannisters, not that there were many of those left now. The Tyrells strangely enough seemed not to be subject to any of the ridicule in the streets that seemed to follow Tyrion and his family around everywhere.

He knew it grated on Cersei’s nerves, for it also grated on his. He did not know how his father put up with it, for he knew that he was still half tempted to light the wildfire and throw it into the streets of King’s Landing and give the people the apocalypse they seemed so desperate for. Things within the Red Keep itself seemed to be no better, Joffrey was growing more and more unpredictable and even Tyrion’s father was having difficulty reigning him in, thankfully the boy had done nothing to harm Lady Margaery, otherwise they would surely have been screwed for Lord Tyrell may be as thick as a tool box and have no political or common sense what so ever, but even he would feel outraged if Joffrey did anything to his precious daughter. And if the Tyrells withdrew their support from the city and ordered Lord Rowan to do the same, the King’s Landing would fall and the Lannisters would all be adorning spikes in the Red Keep.

The only relatively good news to have come in the past few weeks was from the Eyrie. It seemed that Lord Baelish had been successful in his bid to win the Lady Lysa to the Lannister cause. For he had wedded and bedded her some two weeks past, and had started working on her to get her to persuade Lord Royce and the men he had in Harrenhal to retreat back to the Vale and be pardoned. When Littlefinger had sent that raven, he had written that he had sent a raven to Lord Royce in the name of Robert Arryn ordering him to come back to the Vale. Tyrion’s father had made no comment about the news from the Vale, but then again Lord Tywin seemed to be oddly distant these days, as if his mind was elsewhere. Tyrion had noticed that whenever he had paid a visit to his lord father, he always seemed to be writing letters to one lord or the other. Of course when they had received news that Jeyne Westerling had ridden for Riverrun with the Greyjoy boy, Lord Tywin had threatened to actually smile, and Tyrion had never seen such an unnerving sight before. It did make him wonder what his Lord father was plotting and whether or not it would actually work this time around.

He supposed the only way to find out was to see what his Lord father said in today’s small council session. As he entered the room he was surprised to see Joffrey seated in the high chair, usually his nephew never bothered with attending the meetings something Tyrion knew his Lord Father found very useful. But here he was looking rather smug in Lannister Crimson with the crown atop his head. Tyrion sat himself down next to Varys and waited for his father to begin speaking. When Lord Tywin did eventually speak he spoke in a slow tone as if trying to make sure they all understood what he was saying. “We shall start with news from the north. Lord Bolton and his bastard had been working for us plotting to overthrow the Starks and the Targaryen boy. But it seems the Targaryen boy caught wind of it for he has burnt Lord Bolton to dust and his bastard was killed by the Stark boy. Winterfell belongs to the Starks, as does Moat Cailin and Deepwood Motte to.”

Lord Tywin paused, Joffrey looked like he was about to make a comment but one look from his grandfather and he closed his mouth abruptly. Lord Tywin continued, “Lord Rowan reports that Lord Yronwood and Lord Tarly have been harrying his supply lines, and that a scout he captured reported that Lord Royce was beginning to move from Harrenhal. Also Maidenpool has fallen to Stannis Baratheon, though the man himself is reportedly dying from wound he took whilst taking the city.”

Lord Tywin paused again then continued, “I have spoken with Lord Tyrell and we have agreed that until Stannis Baratheon is dead, or Jon Targaryen is dead, Joffrey’s wedding shall not take place, cannot take place.” Tyrion saw Lord Tyrell nod in agreement though he did not look particularly happy about it. Lord Tywin went on, “Too make sure of this, myself and Lord Tyrell shall be marching with all of our strength to meet up with Lord Rowan on the Trident, there we shall give battle to whomever so chooses to face us.”

Joffrey was about to say something, but Cersei spoke before he could. “You would leave us undefended and without a chance of survival father? Who is to protect Joffrey should you fail or fall in battle?”

Lord Tywin gave his daughter a cold look and then in an ominous tone said “You shall have the city watch there to protect you. Plus if Littlefinger is successful the knights of the vale shall come to your aid. Though I do not expect us to fail.”

Tyrion finally asked “How though father, surely you now believe that the Targaryen boy does have a dragon and that it was that same dragon that allowed him to find out about the Bolton betrayal because the dragon caused Lord Frey to shit himself. How can you be so comfortable in assuming victory when you could so easily die, and get us all killed?”

Lord Tywin turned his gaze onto Tyrion, and he instantly regretted speaking for the look his father gave him was one of pure loathing, and hatred. Though when he spoke he spoke calmly and said “Because we have something the Targaryen boy holds dear. We have his wife, and should he take the field we shall kill her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Mother Mercy Take My Hand

**Robb**

Sansa was missing, had been taken by the Lannisters as they had all been walking back into the castle after seeing Lord Hoster’s body out into the river. Jon had been stabbed by Ser Raynald Westerling, and had been abed for a week now, with a deep wound in his chest, though the bleeding had stopped. The castle had been in chaos, when Jon had been stabbed, Ser Raynald had tried to flee after doing the deed, but Ser Barristan and Ser Perwyn had chased after him and had caught him before he could mount his horse. Robb had had Smalljon carry Rickon back into the castle, and had with Edmure’s help carried a severely bleeding Jon back into the castle, his mother and Arya had ran back into the castle together. By the time they were all in the courtyard, Robb had realised that Sansa was not amongst them, and had been about to go out and look for her when he heard her high pitched screaming and had watched helplessly through a window in the battlements as she was carried away on a horse ridden by the Mountain that rides Ser Gregor Clegane, to gods alone knew where.

Search parties had been sent out since then to look for her or for the company that Clegane had with him, but so far they had turned up nothing. Robb still found it hard to believe that Sansa had truly been taken, how had the Lannisters known to come to Riverrun on the exact day that Lord Hoster was being given to the river Robb knew not, unless- and this was certainly a possibility especially after learning about Bolton’s betrayal- there was a spy in their camp. For one horrible moment Robb’s thoughts turned to Jeyne and Theon, whom had come to Riverrun when Robb and Jon had been in the north, Jeyne had tried to speak with him twice since he had come back from the north, but Robb had been too busy to speak with her, he had abided by Theon’s ribbing that Jeyne was in love with him, because whilst he had spent a great deal of time in Jeyne’s  company whilst in the Crag, it had merely been because she was always in the room when Robb came to look upon Theon, and they had done nothing more than exchange a few friendly words during that time. Besides even if she wished for something more, Robb could not give it to her for he was married now.

Jon was still abed, Maester Vyman had told him that with the blade had pierced through Jon’s skin and had come close to puncturing an organ, and it was a miracle Jon hadn’t bled to death, though it was apparent that he would not be marching off to find Sansa or to finish the Lannisters anytime soon. With Jon incapacitated Robb had had to take up the leadership role, and had sent several search parties out and had led some of them to find Sansa, all of which had turned up blank. He was half tempted to send his mother and two remaining siblings back to Winterfell simply for their protection, he had brought up the idea one night over dinner but his mother had outright refused to leave until they found Sansa again. Arya had of course refused to leave as well, but Robb knew that if the Lannisters were willing to take Sansa from right under their noses with a full court of people around her, then they would not hesitate to send more people to take either Arya, Rickon or their mother, and after having spent so long fighting them and having feared for his family’s safety before now, Robb was entirely reluctant to see any of them come to harm again, and so had begun planning to have them either ride north with sufficient protection or ride with Patrek Mallister to Seagard and take a ship north, Lord Jason was still being held in the cells of Pyke and might be for some time.

Ser Raynald was being held in a tower cell, and so far had not given them any answers as to why he had done what he had done, when the Westerlings had bent the knee to Jon at the Crag and again at Casterly Rock, he found all very infuriating. Especially since Sansa’s abduction, Jeyne had taken to almost daily visits to his room begging to speak to him and claiming that she did not know about what her brother had done, nor would she have known. Of course since it had been her brother who had done the deed, and since Sansa was his sister as well as his queen, Robb had had to give some sort of retribution to the Westerlings, and as they still held Lord Gawen Westerling as a prisoner in the dungeons, Robb had had to execute him the day before last, with Jeyne watching.

Another of the headaches that Robb had faced since Sansa had been abducted had been Ghost and Serrax’s almost daily howling and roaring, both seemed to sense their master’s loss and had become extremely aggressive to anyone who was not either Robb, Arya, Rickon or their mother from approaching Jon- well Ghost had since he had spent the whole time since Sansa’s abduction beside Jon’s bed, much the same as Summer had when Bran had been in a coma after his fall- Serrax on the other hand had had to be chained in the Whispering Wood though his roars could be heard for miles around and the plumes of flames he released could be seen from miles around. Robb feared that if they did not find Sansa soon, Serrax would more than likely break free from his chains and burn the whole kingdom to shreds looking for her, for Robb was convinced that each time he looked into Serrax or Ghost’s eyes he was looking at Jon, he did not know what gave him that feeling only that it felt like Jon was watching everything that happened even though he was still unconscious on the bed. Robb supposed that whatever it was must be similar to the night dreams he had where he saw through Greywind’s eyes as he hunted and sat guard next to Robb.

Robb was taken from his thoughts by the sound of a knock on the door, calling for whoever it was to come in, he found himself looking at Theon, his uncle Edmure, Lords Umber, Karstark, Glover, Dustin, Blackwood, Bracken, Tarly, Yronwood and Appleton, who were followed in by Ser Barristan and Ser Leyton of Jon’s Kingsguard – he had yet to name four more men to his seven. Robb nodded at each of them and bid them to sit down. Before he could truly begin to discuss why he had called him to the Lord’s Solar he asked Ser Barristan “Who guards the king?”

Ser Barristan replied “Ser Perwyn our brother as does Ser Wendel, my Lord.”

Robb nodded then continued. “I thank you all for coming. As you know Her Grace Queen Sansa has still not been found. I have sent and led many search parties out to find her, here in the Riverlands and also in the Westerlands. None of the search parties have come back either with a sighting of her or her captors.”

Lord Tarly spoke, “It would not make sense for the Lannisters to take her grace back to the Westerlands or keep her in the Riverlands, my lord, for that is where they know we would look and if we got so much as a sighting of her or her captors, then they know his grace would command us attack them or unleash Serrax on them. No I tell you they are taking her grace to King’s Landing to be punished by that bastard Joffrey Waters.”

Edmure spoke then. “If what you say is true Lord Tarly then why have our scouts in the south not reported seeing any Lannister banners flying, or any sign of a group of men with the Mountain leading them?”

Robb nearly sighed with exasperation his uncle could be so clueless sometimes; thankfully it was Ser Barristan who deigned to reply to his uncle’s question. “Because my lord, they know that if they were to fly the Lannister Banners in the Riverlands they would be stopped and killed and then her grace would be free to go. Also Lord Tywin is not a foolish man, he knows that the Mountain is a recognisable figure, so it is not hard to suspect that whilst the man might have taken her grace, he will not be leading the party to wherever they go, he would have beaten a path back to his holdfast, someone else will be leading the party. It would not surprise me if her grace is taken back to King’s Landing to be left at the hands of the boy Joffrey and his mother. “

Edmure spoke up once more and asked, “But why King’s Landing and why not somewhere like the Vale, we know Lord Baelish has married my sister, and if he were to ask Lysa to bring her grace up to the Eyrie, she would comply and then we would never be able to get her grace back without breaking the Eyrie, which no army has ever been able to do.”

Robb sighed; this conversation was not getting them anywhere. He spoke loudly before anyone else could get another word in and an argument broke out. “They would take her to King’s Landing uncle because she is pregnant. And because they know that we would not march on King’s Landing whilst they still hold her, because then her life and her child’s life would be in danger. It would also serve to keep his grace from the field of battle, for if he were to ride in on Serrax, her grace’s life and that of their graces child would be forfeit. That is why they would take her to King’s Landing.”

There was silence for a moment as the Lords digested what Robb had said, and then Lord Dustin spoke. “What would you have us do my Lord?”

Robb sighed. “As much as it pains me to say this, we cannot spend any more time looking for her grace when we still have a war to fight.  Lord Rowan has moved his men to the blue fork, no doubt planning to assault Riverrun. We have also received word from our source in King’s Landing that Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell are preparing to march from the capital with the whole of their strength and aim to join with Lord Rowan’s host. We must defeat Lord Rowan’s host before they can do that.” Robb paused for a moment then turned to look at Lord Tarly and Lord Yronwood, and said in a clear tone. “Lords Tarly and Yronwood, you both shall join your men together and give attack to Lord Rowan’s host. I want there to be no survivors in his army, no man is to be left alive. Is that understood?” When they nodded their agreement, he went on “Good you shall march at first light tomorrow.” He turned to look at his uncle Edmure then, “You shall lead your men down south toward Harrenhal uncle, you and Lord Royce are to keep Lord Tywin and Lord Mace preoccupied whilst Lords Tarly and Yronwood deal with Lord Rowan.”

His uncle nodded, and then asked “And what are you going to do my lord?”

Robb looked at his uncle then and said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why uncle, Danaerys Targaryen has taken Maidenpool. I am going to go treat with her, and see if she shall join our cause.”

* * *

**Randyll**

The light of the sun was just peaking through the clouds, and made the snow on the ground light up for a brief moment as Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill mounted his war horse. Preparing to march with his men and Lord Yronwood and the Dornishmen to the Blue Fork to deal with Lord Mathis Rowan. Lord Rowan, Randyll knew was a fierce and proud man, who was also a capable warrior. He had stuck with Mace Tyrell through Robert’s Rebellion, and through this current war, though for what purpose Randyll knew not, for Mace had done the same to Mathis as he had done to Randyll. Whatever victories Mathis claimed in battle, Mace would claim as his own, indeed Randyll had heard it spoken that the defeat of Bolton and Tully forces at the Trident by Mathis and his men had been claimed as the tactical genius of Mace Tyrell. Randyll had never scoffed so hard when he had heard that, Mace a tactical genius? Only if there were White Walkers coming back south from the wall, would Mace ever be a tactical genius. No just like during Robert’s Rebellion whilst Mathis had been the on doing the fighting at the Trident, Mace had no doubt been gorging himself on food hoping to tempt Lord Royce out of Harrenhal and to bend the knee. And just like at Storm’s End Mace had failed to do that, and this time had been called back to King’s Landing by Tywin Lannister.

The plan that Lord Stark had devised Randyll admitted was a wise one. He and Lord Yronwood were to follow the red fork until it came to the junction of meeting the blue and green fork for the Trident, and the Randyll was to march his men north west from the river and then east to attack Mathis’s men from the left, whilst Lord Yronwood marched north and attacked them from the rear. If the plan went according to plan then Mathis and his men would be trapped with nowhere left to go, and as Lord Stark had said they were to all be put to the sword. It was snowing lightly when they came to the point where the Red, Blue and Green Fork met and became the Trident. Randyll waited for Lord Yronwood to spur his men into action and watched with his son Dickon by his side as the 10,000 Dornishmen marched north disappearing in the wind and snow. Randyll waited for a few moments before spurring his own horse on and leading his men north west on their path toward Mathis and his men.

As they curved in they could hear the shouting of men and the clanging of steel it became apparent that Lord Yronwood had engaged Mathis and his men. Randyll called a halt to the march, and waited for the signal that he and Lord Yronwood had agreed upon that would signal that Randyll and his men were to enter the fray. He waited one, two, three, four heartbeats before he heard it the mournful sound of the Dornish war horns being blown. Randyll drew his sword from its sheath and bellowed for his men to charge. He spurred his horse on and led the charged as they smashed into Mathis’s left flank.  It was complete chaos, men were hacking and slashing their foes, and soon Randyll found himself hacking and slashing his way through one man after the other, some of whom bore the Rose of House Tyrell on their armour, others who bore the Argent tree of House Rowan, and others who bore the Stag and Lion combatant of Joffrey Waters on their armour. He hacked and slashed his way through them, his sword coloured red the ground beneath him painted red.

He was determined to be the man who ended Mathis Rowan’s life, the man had talked to Randyll about their loyalty to the Targaryens outstripping their loyalty to the Baratheons when news of King Jon’s crowning reached them, and yet when Renly had died and Randyll had come to talk to Mathis about possibly joining with King Jon, Mathis had laughed in his face and told him not to be so foolish, a combined Lannister Tyrell army would be unstoppable, and besides Mace had apparently promised Mathis the hand of his heir Willas for one of Mathis daughters. Randyll was determined to avenge the slight done to him and his house today. He cut a bloody path through the men of House Rowan and their army, hacking and slashing like a man possessed, his sword completely covered in blood, Dickon his son and heir hacking and slashing beside him, when he finally found himself come face to face with Mathis Rowan himself. The man looked a sight, blood and mud stained his black armour and his beard making him seem more monster than human, Randyll supposed he looked no better. There was resignation in Mathis’s eyes when he saw Randyll draw his blade, and as they spurred their horses to meet each other in battle, out the corner of his eye Randyll saw Dickon do the same with one of Mathis’s boys also.

They met in a clanging of steel, their horses swayed, but they both stayed a horse despite the slipperiness of the ground due to the snow and blood that covered it. They swung at each other meeting the other’s swords with shields and sword, their dance continued. One man’s swing was met by the other man’s block or swing. Neither man seemed able to gain any purchase on the other. That was until Mathis’s horse slipped and Mathis was forced forward exposing his neck, Randyll swung his sword and managed to clip Mathis’s neck before the man swung him back and hacked at Randyll. Soon their elegant dance turned into something primal, both men’s horses fell on the snow, and caused both of them to dismount. As they circled each other, they both forgot the dance and instead began hacking and slashing at each other, cutting or denting the other, drawing blood. And then Randyll found a gap between Mathis’s chest plate and lunged forward and plunged his sword into his former friend’s chest, just as he felt the cold bite of steel being plunged into his own chest, he looked down and saw Mathis Rowan’s sword buried in his own chest, blood pouring out of both of them.

* * *

**Tyrion**

_Perhaps it is true then. Perhaps Lord Yronwood truly has rebelled against Prince Doran’s rule. Perhaps Prince Doran shall remain loyal to us. Or this is just an elaborate ruse. Thought Tyrion as he watched their banners flying as the riders emerged from the green of the living wood in a long and dusty column. From here to the river, only bare black trees remained a legacy of his battle. Too many banners even for a kingdom supposedly divided, he thought sourly, as he watched the ashes kick up under the hooves of the approaching horses, as they had beneath the hooves of the Tyrell van as it smashed Stannis in the flank all those years ago. Stannis is dead though and a dragon holds Maidenpool._

_He tried to think something to do to whilst away the time, “How many banners do you count?” he asked Bronn._

_The sellsword knight shaded his eyes. “Eight... no, nine.”_

_Tyrion turned in his saddle. “Pod come up here. Describe the arms you see, and tell me which houses they represent.”_

_Podrick Payne edged his gelding closer. He was carrying the royal standard, Joffrey’s great stag and lion, and struggling with its weight._

_Bronn bore Tyrion’s own banner, the lion of Lannister gold on crimson._

_He’s getting taller, Tyrion realized as Pod stood in his stirrups for a better look. He’ll soon tower over me like all the rest. The lad had been making a diligent study of Dornish heraldry, at Tyrion’s command, but as ever he was nervous. “I can’t see. The wind is flapping them.”_

_“Bronn, tell the boy what you see.”_

_Bronn looked very much the knight today, in his new doublet and cloak, the flaming chain across his chest. “A red sun on orange,” he called, “with a spear through its back.”_

_“Martell,” Podrick Payne said at once visibly relieved. “House Martell of Sunspear, my lord. The Prince of Dorne.”_

_“My horse would have known that one,” Tyrion said dryly. “Give him another, Bronn.”_

_“There’s a purple flag with yellow balls.”_

_“Lemons?” Pod said hopefully. “A purple field strewn with lemons? Four House Dalt of Lemonwood.”_

_“Might be. Next’s a big black bird on yellow. Something pink or white in its claws, hard to say with the banner flapping.”_

_“The vulture of Blackmont grasps a baby in its talons,” said Pod. “House Blackmont of Blackmont, ser.”_

_Bronn laughed. “Reading books again? Books will ruin your sword eye, boy. I see a skull too. A Black banner.”_

_“The crowned skull of House Manwoody, bone and gold on black.” Pod sounded more confident with every correct answer. “The Manwoodys of Kingsgrave.”_

_“Three black spiders?”_

_“They’re scorpions’ ser. House Qorgyle of Sandstone, three scorpions black on red.”_

_“Red and yellow, a jagged line between.”_

_“The flames of Hellholt. House Uller.”_

_Tyrion was impressed. The boy’s not half stupid once he gets his tongue untied. “Go on Pod.” He urged. “If you get them all, I’ll make you a gift.”_

_“A pie with red and black slices,” said Bronn. “There’s a gold hand in the middle.”_

_“House Allyrion of Godsgrace.”_

_“A red chicken eating a snake looks like.”_

_“The Gargalens of Salt Shore. A cockatrice. Ser. Pardon. Not a chicken. Red with a black snake in its beak.”_

_“Very good!” exclaimed Tyrion. “One more lad.”_

_Bronn scanned the ranks of the approaching Dornishmen. “The last’s a golden feather on green checks.”_

_“A golden quill, Ser. Jordayne of the Tor.”_

_Tyrion laughed. “Nine, and well done. I could not have named them all myself.” That was a lie, but it would give the boy some pride, and that he badly needed._

_Martell brings some formidable companions, it would seem. Not one of the houses Pod had named was small or insignificant. Nine of the greatest lords of Dorne were coming up the Kingsroad, them or their heirs, and somehow Tyrion did not think they had come all this way just to see the dancing bear. There was a message here. Yes Dorne’s support for the Iron Throne is weakening by the day it would seem, they want justice for crimes committed, and they mean to see them enforced before lending aid in the field. Oh Joy, thought Tyrion._

_“My lord,” Pod said a little timidly, “there’s no litter.”_

_Tyrion turned his head sharply. The boy was right._

_“Doran Martell always travels in a litter,” the boy said. “A carved littler with silk hangings and suns on the drapes.”_

_Tyrion heard the same talk. Prince Doran was past fifty, and gouty. He may have wanted to make faster time, he told himself. He may have feared his litter would make too tempting a target for brigands, or that it would prove too cumbersome in the high passes of the Boneway. Perhaps his gout has passed._

_So why did he have such a bad feeling about this?_

_This waiting was intolerable. “ Banners forward,” he snapped. “We’ll meet them.” He kicked his horse. Bronn and Pod followed, one to either side. When the Dornishmen saw them coming, they spurred their own mounts, banners rippling as they rode. From their ornate saddles were slung the round metal shields they favoured, and many carried bundles of short throwing spears or they double curved Dornish bows they used so well from horseback._

_There were three sorts of Dornishmen, the first King Daeron had observed. There were the salty Dornishmen who lived along the coasts, the sandy Dornishmen of the deserts and long river valleys, and the stony Dornishmen who made their fastnesses in the passes and heights of the Red Mountains. The salty Dornishmen had the most Rhoynish blood, the stony Dornishmen the least._

_All three sorts seemed well represented in Doran’s retinue. The salty Dornishmen were lithe and dark, with smooth olive skin and long black hair streaming in the wind. The sandy Dornishmen were even darker, their faces burned brown by the hot Dornish sun. They wound long bright scarves around their helms to ward of sunstroke. The stony Dornishmen were biggest and fairest, sons of Andals and the First Men, brown haired or blond, with faces that freckled or burned in the sun instead of browning._

_The lords wore silk and satin robes with jewelled belts and flowing sleeves. Their armour was heavily enamelled and inlaid with burnished copper, shining silver, and soft red gold. They came astride red horses and golden ones and a few as pale as snow, all slim and swift, with long necks and narrow beautiful heads. The fabled sand steeds of Dorne were smaller than proper warhorses and could not bear such weight of armour, but it was said they could run for a day and night and another day, and never tire._

_The Dornish leader forked a stallion black as sin with a mane and a tail the colour of fire. He sat his saddle as if he’d been born there, tall, slim and graceful. A cloak of pale red silk fluttered from his shoulders, and his shirt was armoured with overlapping rows of copper disks that glittered like a thousand bright new pennies as he rode. His high gilded helm displayed a copper sun on its brow, and the round shield slung behind him bore the sun and spear of House Martell on its polished metal surface._

_A Martell sun, but then years too young, Tyrion thought as he reined up, too fit as well, and far too fierce. He knew what he must deal with by then. How many Dornishmen does it take to have fighting in King’s Landing again? Just one. Yet he had no choice but to smile. “Well met, my lords. We had words of your approach, and his Grace King Joffrey bid me ride out to welcome you in his name. My Lord father the king’s hand bids you welcome as well.” He feigned an amiable confusion. “Which one of you is Prince Doran?”_

_“My brother’s health requires he remain at Sunspear.” The princeling removed his helm. Beneath, his face was lined and saturnine, with thin arched brows above large eyes as black and shiny as pools that receded from his brow in a widow’s peak as sharply pointed as his nose. A salty Dornishmen for certain. “Prince Doran has sent me to join King Joffrey’s council in his stead, as it please His Grace.”_

_“His Grace will be most honoured to have the counsel of a warrior as renowned of Prince Oberyn of Dorne,” said Tyrion thinking, This will mean blood in the gutters. “And your noble companions are most welcome as well.”_

_“Permit me to acquaint you with them, my lord of Lannister. Ser Deizel Dalt, of Lemonwood. Lord Tremond Gargalen. Lord Harmen Uller and his brother Ser Ulwyck. Ser Ryon Allyrion and his natural son Ser Daemon Sand, the Bastard of Godsgrace. Lord Dagos Manwoody, his brother Ser Myles, his sons Mors and Dickon. Ser Arron Qorgyle. And never let it be thought that I would neglect the ladies. Myria Jordayne, heir to the Tor. Lady Larra Blackmont, her daughter Jynessa, her son Perros.” He raised a slender hand toward a black haired woman to the rear beckoning her forward. “And this is Ellaria Sand, mine own paramour.”_

_Tyrion swallowed a groan. His paramour, and bastard born, Cersei will pitch a holy fit if he wants her at the wedding. If she consigned the woman to some dark corner below the salt, his sister would risk the Red Viper’s wrath. Seat her beside him at the high table, and every other lady on the dais was like to take offense. Did Prince Doran mean to provoke a quarrel?_

_Prince Oberyn wheeled his horse about to face his fellow Dornishmen. “Ellaria, lords and ladies, sers, see how well King Joffrey loves us. His Grace has been so kind as to send his own Uncle Imp to bring us to his court.”_

_That caused a great deal of nervous laughter from the assembled Dornish nobility, but Tyrion was ready to counter the jest, as he introduced Prince Oberyn to the contingent that had ridden with him to greet them. Once the normal flattery had been observed the rode on toward the Red Keep, Prince Oberyn and his paramour the lady Ellaria riding beside Tyrion. They were silent for a few moments and before long Tyrion broke it simply out of frustration. “ Prince Oberyn whilst I am glad of your presence here, I am sad to not see Lord Yronwood nor several other of your chief bannermen banners flying with you pray tell me where are they?”_

_Prince Oberyn snorted at that and replied. “Anders Yronwood is a fool, who thinks more with his cock then his brain. When he heard of the alliance my brother had struck with the Iron Throne the fool took it into his head to rebel against my brother’s rule and brought several bannermen and their soldiers with him. The fools are likely dying somewhere in the Riverlands as we speak.”_

_They were silent once more, but Tyrion could not help but see the way Prince Oberyn’s mouth tightened after having spoken of the Yronwoods and wondered, Does he wish that he was there fighting alongside them instead of here, or does he wish to have killed Lord Anders long ago? It was a question he would need to find the answers for if he hoped to keep the peace in King’s Landing for the duration of Lord Tywin’s stay away from the capital._

* * *

_Whilst the Riverlands bled once more, and King’s Landing was alight with plots within plots. One Mockingbird laid the seeds of his decade long plan in the ground awaited to reap the reward. He had married the trout, the uglier one it was true, but she was the one who would give him the keys to the kingdom. Already he was taking steps to remove power from her control and put it into his. She was blinded by her love for him, and foolishly thought he felt the same. But that was far from the truth; in fact the day was getting closer when the trout and her brattish little child would no longer be needed._

_It had been his whisperings that had planted the seed of the Lannister- Tyrell Alliance that had so thwarted Stannis Baratheon. It had been his whisperings that had planted the seed of doubt of Joffrey’s stability and suitability for Margaery Tyrell; it was he who would be responsible for the fall of Cersei Lannister from power. All he needed was for the Targaryen boy to destroy Tywin Lannister and then he would see to it that the Tyrells saw fit to abandon the Lannisters and joined their full strength to the Targaryen boy in exchange for Margaery Tyrell as his queen. He would see the Young Wolf dead, and then he would swoop in and rescue the boy’s mother and sister. The girl who looked like a much more beautiful version of her mother, the girls with the auburn hair who should have been his and Cat’s he would get through her, the mother would be his as well. He would rule Winterfell, and the Targaryen boy would owe his throne to him, and would not seek to challenge him for the girl’s hand._

_For the boy was just like his uncle, a fool playing at King who knew how to win battles but did not, would never know how to play the game, and would die if he tried to best the mockingbird, for the mockingbird had been playing the game for as long as he had lived. Why it had been him who had told the boy’s uncle, the one the song’s called the Wild Wolf about his sister’s “kidnapping” that had led to the wild wolf’s eventual death. He would have both the girl and the mother soon enough. The girl was already on her way here. The foolish Lannister thought to trust him, for they thought they had come up with the idea to take the girl from one of their own spies, but that spy had belonged to the mockingbird for as long as the trout had been in Winterfell, had reported her every move back to him. Had told him when the girl would be ripe for the taking. And he had acted on it, the Westerlings were an easy family to manipulate especially the girl with promises of her Tully haired love, it was all too easy, too easy. Soon he would have all that should have been his from the beginning._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	20. Our Time Is Running Out

**Catelyn**

It has been a month since Sansa was taken by the Lannisters. A month in which search parties have been sent out and scoured each and every corner of the Riverlands and the Westerlands and have turned up not a sight of her daughter. A month in which Catelyn has begun to fear the worst, it was the Mountain that rides, Ser Gregor Clegane who took her daughter, of that much all agree, where he has taken her, whether it be to King’s Landing or to some other unknown location no one knows, but there is a silent sort of agreement that wherever her daughter is, nothing good could have befallen her with the Mountain as her captor. Sometimes at night Catelyn remembers Ned telling her of when Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon- Jon’s half siblings- bodies were presented to Robert sat on the Iron Throne, and how their bodies had been so mutilated everyone present had had to look away, and in her darkest moments when she despairs so deeply of ever finding her daughter again, she closes her eyes and pictures Sansa’s lifeless body strewn on the floor in front of the Iron Throne the Lannisters laughing all the while. What makes it worse is that her Sansa was pregnant when she was taken, whether she will be once they find her, whether she or the babe will survive whatever treatment she is given, worries her beyond belief.

She is only slightly relieved that Arya, Rickon, Robb and Jon are still here with her. Arya has become very, very quiet and angry since Sansa was taken, and it took several men to prevent her from attacking Ser Raynald or Lady Jeyne afterwards. Rickon though he has become more familiar with her, and sticks to her as he used before all this chaos started and they all lived in Winterfell and Ned was alive, does not fully understand why everyone is so ill tempered and why Sansa- Sanny he calls her- is not there to play with him when Arya goes off into one of her moods. Robb, her son, her eldest son, is Jon’s unofficial hand, his right hand man, has taken it upon himself to continue to lead the war effort, though he, himself is still recovering from wounds taken in the North. Robb has led many search parties looking for Sansa, and each time came back empty handed and dejected. Her boy has grown more and more solemn as the days have worn on, becoming more and more like his father than he ever was before, not even the presence of Theon- the man he considers a brother- with his light hearted japes and jests, is enough to bring a smile back to Robb’s face. No Robb set of for Maidenpool a week ago, deciding that if they truly wished to defeat the Lannisters once and for all they would need the strength of two extra dragons, which could be found in Maidenpool formerly the seat of House Mooton now the seat of Danaerys Targaryen, Jon’s aunt, and a potential rival claimant for the Iron Throne should she so choose.  Robb had tried to get her and Arya and Rickon back to Winterfell, but she had vehemently refused to return north, not until Sansa came back to them, not whilst there was a war still going on. Robb had acquiesced to her, but when news had come from the Blue Fork, writ in Dickon Tarly’s hand that Mathis Rowan and his men had been killed and defeated, Robb had once again asked her, then pleaded with her to return north, to Winterfell, or if not Winterfell to White Harbour, to where it would be safe. Again she had refused pointing out to Robb that with Randyll Tarly dead and the snow falling all the more heavily now, it would be impractical and foolish for her and Arya and Rickon to leave. Robb had reluctantly allowed her to stay, though he had made her uncle Ser Brynden swear to take her north should anything happen to him before he could return.

Jon, her son- who was not her son- he altered between consciousness and unconsciousness so frequently that Maester Vyman had said that it was a wonder that he was still alive. The wounds that had Jon had received from the stabbing Ser Raynald had given him had been quite sever and quite close to some vital organs, had they been an inch more to the centre, Jon would have been dead by now and their cause finished. But Jon lived on, he fought on, whether or not it was because of the will to be king or because Sansa was not there, Catelyn knew not- though she did know, having spent some time tending to him herself, that Jon frequently called out for Sansa whilst he slept- Ghost as ever remained a sentinel beside his bed, not allowing anyone who was not part of the immediate family come near him, and Serrax Jon’s black behemoth of a  dragon roars and belching of flames could be heard all the way in Riverrun, and the surrounding area, despite him being tied to several trees in the Whispering Wood.   She knew many of the men in Riverrun and around the Riverlands were deeply scared by Serrax, for dragons had not been seen in Westeros for nigh on two hundred years, but Catelyn thought just as she had when her children had come back with the direwolves and Summer had saved her Brandon’s life, that perhaps the dragons were meant to come back from the dead, perhaps it was a sign from the gods. She often felt that Ghost, Greywind, Shaggydog and Nymeria were more than just direwolves it was as if they were something more, something connected to her children through some sort of intricate link that was beyond mere understanding, it was the same feeling she got whenever she ventured out into the woods and heard Serrax’s growling and roaring from afar.

Their attempts to get Ser Raynald to talk about who had planned the kidnapping of her daughter of, his queen (for she knew the Westerlings had bent the knee to Jon, when the Crag had fallen, Robb had told her that), but Ser Raynald remained tight lipped and not even some of the more unhonourable forms of persuasion and questioning could do more than draw a few frenzied words from his mouth. He had screamed that Tywin Lannister had been plotting with his mother for a way to remove Jon and Robb from the war for good, and had been plotting with Roose Bolton as well, and that Robb and Jon were meant to have died at Robb and Edmure’s wedding, though of course they had not. For Walder Frey had had a change of heart upon seeing Jon and Serrax, as Robb and Jon had told her when they had come back to Riverrun, and Roose Bolton and his bastard had paid for their attempted treachery with their lives. When Ser Raynald was told this, he continued screaming about how the Lannisters had continued to insist upon somehow weakening Jon’s cause, and he had screamed that there was a spy in their army who reported back to Petyr, who had come up with the idea for Sansa to be taking. Catelyn could not believe that though, yes there might be a spy in their army- that was always a possibility during war- but she could not believe that Petyr, who had helped her and Ned when they had been looking for Bran’s attempted killer, and for whom had helped Ned when he had been looking to discover who had been behind Jon Arryn’s death, who had been like a little brother to her when they were growing up could plan such a thing. Then she thought about how he had challenged Brandon Stark- Ned’s brother- to a duel for her hand all those years ago, and how Brandon had nearly killed him- had refrained from doing so because she had pleaded with him not to- and she felt a jolt of panic envelope her.

She knew Petyr had been sent to the Eyrie to wed Lysa, and to get her to bring the Vale to the side of the Lannisters, it would make sense therefore for him to plan to have Sansa taken captive. But she knew not what to do or whom to believe, which was why she found herself walking down toward the dungeons, Brienne following her like a shadow. As she stood in front of his cell, holding her torch up high and watching him squint in light of the flame, she thought of how different the man looked now compared to when she had seen him at Winterfell. His golden hair no longer shone, instead it was damp with grease and sweat, and he had a beard a golden beard, but it was lined with dirt and filth.

“Ah Lady Stark, such a delight to see you, I’m afraid I have nothing here to offer you but my own pleasant company. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She heard the Kingslayer ask in that mocking voice of his.

Catelyn kept her expression blank when she said, “I have come to ask you a few questions.”

She heard him chuckle and wondered if he had lost his senses. “Ah of course you have, but I am a Lannister after all and we do expect certain things in return for what we give. I have a few of my own questions that I wish to have answered, for you see the jailers here are woefully bad at lying, though they do so take pleasure in mocking me. I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

Catelyn was silent for a moment, before saying “Deal.”

She saw the Kingslayer smile then and say “Excellent. So then Lady Stark, what is it that you wish to ask of me?”

Catelyn hesitated for a moment, she had so many questions she wished to ask but only a few of them would give her the answers she truly wanted. She took a deep breath then asked, the first question that had haunted her for many, many moons. “Did you push my son Brandon from the tower in Winterfell?”

There was silence, then the Kingslayer replied “Yes, and I would do it again if I had to.”

Catelyn was horrified, “Why? He was but a boy; he did no wrong to you!”

The Kingslayer sighed then, “He was spying. He saw something that he was not supposed to see.”

Silence then, “He saw you and your sister?”

The Kingslayer sighed once more before saying, “Yes, yes he did.”

Catelyn felt disgust well up in her stomach; she had to hold back the urge to strangle the man there and then. Instead she asked, “So you pushed him from the tower, and then when you were safely back in King’s Landing you sent an assassin to kill him?”

The man had the audacity to laugh then, “Oh Lady Stark I pity you, and truly I do. Tell me, my lady, why would I want your son dead?”

“Because you wished for him not tell a soul what he had seen!”

“Ah but Lady Stark, if I wished for him to die, I would do it myself I would not send some assassin to kill him. And before you ask Tyrion did not send the man either. Now I have some questions that I wish answered.”

“Go on.”

She heard the man take a deep breath and then ask, “Is it true that the Rock has fallen?”

Catelyn nodded, then heard the man take a deep shuddering breath before he started laughing once more. “Ah your boys are very smart. Then again I suppose it helps eh, being a Stark. And who has your nephew decided to give the Rock to once this war is done and he survives?”

Catelyn hesitated for a minute then said, “Torrhen Karstark. He has married your cousin Cerenna.”

The Kingslayer was silent for a minute then said, “That is all I wish to know. But I suspect that you have some more questions, go ahead and ask and I shall see if I can answer them.”

Catelyn thought carefully about what she needed to know next, for she knew the question she wished to ask could have damning consequences for herself and for Sansa. Taking a deep breath she asked, “If neither you, your sister, nor brother sent that man after my son then why did Lord Baelish confess to myself and my husband that the same dagger that had been his once, was now in the possession of your brother?”

The Kingslayer laughed again and said “Oh come now Lady Stark, surely you are not so foolish as to know that Littlefinger was lying.”

Catelyn felt her heart sink, “What do you mean?”

The man chuckled and said “Lord Baelish used to go around court claiming that he had had you and your sister’s maidenheads before either of your respective husbands. And that you and he were lovers long before Lord Stark ever sought your hand for his son. He also kept up an affair with Lady Lysa for years when Lord Arryn was still alive.”

Catelyn felt her heart sink then, her worst fears had been confirmed, it was Petyr who had planned her daughter’s kidnapping. She said nothing more to the Kingslayer as she left him to his cell, Brienne on her heels. She dismissed Brienne from her side, as she mounted a horse and rode out of Riverrun’s courtyard during the night and made for the Whispering Wood. If Petyr had planned her daughter’s kidnapping then she knew where she would be. She stood before Serrax, who looked at her with his blood red eyes, he looked at her as she made her way to the chain that bound him to the trees, and as she took the key from her pocket and undid the lock, she whispered to him, “Find Sansa, find her where the falcon flies. Find her and bring her home.”

She moved backwards as Serrax, got ready to fly, and when he eventually did jump into the air and flew, he let loose a terrifying roar, and Catelyn Stark could only hope that she had done the right thing.

* * *

**Varys**

Since Lord Tywin had left with his men, King’s Landing had become a much quieter place, there was less hustle and bustle in the streets and with the Tyrells and their men gone, there was also less likely to be fighting in the streets what with the Dornish contingent led by Prince Oberyn finally in the city. Of course that did not mean that there was no tension or drama. As a matter of fact, Varys knew that Queen Cersei deeply mistrusted Prince Oberyn and the Dornishmen and women that he had brought with him, for whilst he had pledged his fealty to the Iron Throne and to Joffrey before court just the other day, Lord Yronwood and several other important Dornish lords were off fighting in the Riverlands, for King Jon. And of course these same Dornish lords had played a hand in the defeat of Mathis Rowan and his men at the Battle of the Blue Fork, which had been a huge blow to the Lannisters for it now meant that they no longer outnumbered King Jon’s forces. In fact it was now the other way around, and Varys’s spies within both armies had reported that Lord Tully had led a force of some 5,000 men south to Harrenhal, where he had joined with Lord Royce and his 20,000 Valemen and that they were preparing for a battle with the host commanded by Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell, in an attempt to distract Lord Tywin from the fact that Lord Robb Stark was making his way to Maidenpool to treat with Danaerys Stormborn and secure her alliance and her dragons for his cousin, King Jon.

Of King Jon, Varys’s little birds within Riverrun reported that he fell in and out of consciousness daily. And that he called out for the Lady Sansa almost frequently during his sleep. Varys was worried; the wounds that he had received from Ser Raynald’s knife were not life threatening though it seemed that King Jon was in limbo subconsciously over whether or not he should allow himself to sleep or to fight the fatigue and wake up and lead his men. Of course, if he were to get better he would not be in a fit state to lead his men for some time, due to the nature of his wounds and how they would play into him riding his dragon. Also there was the fact that Tywin Lannister had said that should King Jon take the field against them, he would have Queen Sansa and her baby killed, Varys knew that threat would deeply worry King Jon and the Starks, and may even serve to cripple their war efforts. However, Varys knew one thing that Lord Tywin did not, for although it had been Littlefinger’s suggestion that Queen Sansa be kidnapped and taken from Riverrun and brought to King’s Landing to cripple King Jon’s war effort, Varys’ littlebirds had reported that the man had his own motives.

For long Varys had suspected that Littlefinger had had more of a hand in Jon Arryn’s death than appeared likely upon first inspection, for though Littlefinger thought himself a master of the game, really he was just a novice. For Varys had eyes everywhere in the Red Keep and all over Westeros if truth be told, and had heard the reports that his little birds had brought him of the illicit affair between Littlefinger and Lady Lysa, and how Littlefinger had used Lady Lysa’s love for him to further his own position in life, allowing him to come first to Gulltown and then to King’s Landing, where he had begun plotting a much more dangerous game : war. Varys suspected that there were only two things that Littlefinger wanted in life, power and Catelyn Tully. His boasts about how he had taken Catelyn Stark’s maidenhead were empty and pointless; Varys had done his searching and knew that it had been Lysa Arryn’s maidenhead he had taken not Catelyn Stark’s. Varys also knew that Lady Stark’s marriage to Eddard Stark constantly rattled Littlefinger, even now, when Lord Stark was dead and buried. Littlefinger Varys suspected, no longer pined after Catelyn Stark and instead had set his sights on Queen Sansa, hence why he had suggested the plot in the first place and why Varys found himself sneaking around the Red Keep in the dead of the night and found himself standing in front of Prince Oberyn’s chambers waiting for the Prince or his paramour to answer the door.

As it happened it was Prince Oberyn who opened the door, the Prince merely looked at Varys once before he said “Come in then Lord Varys.”

Varys was slightly taken aback that Oberyn knew it was him, for he had taken care to disguise his appearance and looked much different to how he did during the day or when he went to pay Lord Tyrion a visit. Prince Oberyn clearly noticed his surprise for he laughed and said “You did not expect that disguise to fool me Lord Varys. I have known many spiders in my time, and have acted as one too.”

Varys merely nodded and took the seat offered to him. They were silent for a few moments, then Varys saw Ellaria Sand, Prince Oberyn’s paramour emerge from her and the Prince’s chamber clad in only a night robe, she sat herself down on Oberyn’s knee, and smiled seductively at Varys, he tittered. Prince Oberyn waited for a few more moments then said, “What is it you want Lord Varys. I have many ah duties to attend to.” He looked at Ellaria then and she giggled.

Varys waited for a moment then said, “I know that you have come here for Justice Prince Oberyn, for Elia and her children. And I know that you know that so long as the Lannisters are alive, your sister and her children shall never have their justice.” He paused and saw Oberyn’s hands tighten on his chair. Varys went on “ I also know that thought you have pledged your loyalty to Joffrey Baratheon, that your brother instructed Lord Yronwood to fight for King Jon. I know that Dorne really is fighting for his grace King Jon, and that you are here only as a pretext.”

Oberyn’s face whitened then and Varys had to repress a chuckle, “My Prince you know that I am a spider, but my web goes far beyond this keep and this city. It goes far beyond Westeros also. But that is not important; right now what I need to know is what are you willing to do for your king?”

Ellaria Sand snorted and said “We have sent men under Lord Yronwood to fight for him, we have come here to prepare the city for him. What more could we do.”

Before Varys could answer, Oberyn spoke. “You want me to get Queen Sansa from wherever the Lannisters have hidden her is that it?”

Varys nodded, “Very good Prince Oberyn, very good. But not from wherever for she shall be in the Vale. But from whom. Lord Baelish holds her, and will do all he can to keep her. His Grace King Jon will look more favourably on you if you rescue his wife and lady love from the man, I believe you are an expert at subterfuge and poison my prince?” Oberyn nodded, and Varys smiled then and said “Then this should be no trouble for you at all.”

* * *

**Three Eyed Crow**

_The winter of all winters was fast descending on Westeros. As he had seen so it was happening, like it had millennia ago when the children had walked the Earth as the kings along with the First Men and Dragons had flown through the skies of Asshai and Essos. It was cold outside, that much he could tell from the way the trees shook in the wind and in the way the snow fell heavy onto the leaves. But he could not feel the cold, had not been able to feel the cold for a long time._

_The last time he had truly felt the cold, it had been when he had gone on a ranging, a big ranging some sixty years ago now, there was snow on the ground and dead animals everywhere. It seemed that the giants had been marching south, not wildlings this time but giants, led by Toregg the Strong, last of the giant kings. There had been a fierce battle between the brother’s of the Night’s Watch and the Giants, it ended with many dead on both sides- including Toregg and Lord Commander Harlaw. When they had returned to Castle Black, he had been made Lord Commander, by a unanimous vote.  That was the last time he had truly felt the cold, for the next ten years had been high summer, but he had felt the cold in his bones, it had been that that had led him out far from his party that day, when he had been five and seventy, and close to dying. He had found the cave, or the cave had found him he knew not anymore, and he had been taught about his powers and his ability, and he had dreamed, and seen and watched._

_He had seen all kinds of things, it was he who sent Coldhands to lead the brother Samwell back safely to the Wall, after the mutiny in Craster’s keep. It was he who had allowed Benjen Stark to live through the attacks of the wights and the White Walkers. He had done much seeing during his time here in the cave of the children, and there were still something he did not truly understand about the White Walkers, like where they came from or where they had been for the past millennia but one thing he did understand was that, their coming had awakened magic in the realm once more and had allowed the Prince’s dragon to be born as well as the Stormborn’s. He knew that for them to be stopped the dragon must have three heads, so far he knew of two, but the third he was not so sure of. The Prince did not have his sword either, the sword to break the darkness and welcome the light, the Stormborn did not wield weapons and was fast falling into the trap that had captured many of their family for generations: madness. He was helpless to stop the descent he could only hope that she would not wage war with the Prince for the throne. They needed to be united before they could fight the White Walkers, and the Prince of the Green needed to arrive, he needed to be taught all that he could. Yet the three eyed crow knew that his time was fast running out, ever since he had called for the boy to come he had felt his strength waning, had felt himself lost in dreams more often than not._

_He knew that he could not pass on until the boy had been trained, for the boy would be able to learn more about the Prince than he had ever been able to. The boy would be able to find the third head of the dragon, where he and Rhaegar had failed. The boy would know when and how to send Darksister to the third head, for that was what the sword had been forged for, deep in the fires of Asshai, back when the Long Night had reigned had it been forged and brought. Though of course the Red Woman was still out there was still alive and wandering Westeros, that was not good, she needed to be dead for the Prince to succeed for the White Walkers to be crushed, for otherwise she would awaken those of the flame that were best not awoken, creatures so foul that they scared even he, years after he had learned of their existence and had faced them down. No Melisandre Of Asshai would have to die, and one way or another he would have to make sure of it._

_Of course he could always contact the man he knew as distant kin, the man whose father he had once known. Though he was reluctant to do so, for the man’s father had been mad, and the man himself had been plotting things that even made his head turn, and he had been a master plotter back when he had been human. No he decided that he would wait, wait for the boy to come with the cranogpeople, he would teach the boy all he knew and had learnt in his years as a greenseer, and then when the boy was finally ready he would depart this world for the peace that had been denied him for all those years._

_He could almost hear Shiera calling him, calling his name, opening her arms to welcome him into her embrace, feel her lips on his, and feel her wetness around him. Oh how he yearned for her, he had not thought about her for so long now, but now that he had he could not satisfy his craving for her. It had been too long, she had been gone too long, he wondered what would happen if he said her name now, not the name she had had when he had known her, but the name she had had long ago when both of them had been young and foolish.  Before life had seen to rip them apart._

_Deep down in the cave of the Children of the Forest, the Three Eyed Crown opened his eye and mouth and with a voice hoarse from disuse whispered a name that had not been heard in Westeros for many years, “Quaithe.”_

* * *

_The mother, who was not his mother, had unbound his chains, and said for him to go and find his mate, his wife. He looked at her, saw the hope and the fear in her eyes, and knew that something was troubling her deeply, but in this body he did not have the ability to speak human words, he could only roar and growl and breathe fire. So instead he turned his blood red eyes onto her, and puffed a plume of smoke, and then as she backed away he readied himself for flight, once the mother- who was not his mother- had gone back far enough he launched himself into the air, and spread his wings. Oh it felt good to be in the air again, it had been far too long since he had flown. He flew higher and higher before he opened his wings and roared for all to here, as the birds flew out of the trees, he unleashed a delighted plume of smoke._

_He spared one last glance for the mother- who was not his mother-, she looked so small down on the ground, and then he opened his wings and flew to where the falcon dwelled. He crossed castles, grass, and rivers. Each time he flew past an establishment where one of the two legged people lived he roared, so that they could see his presence and know the strength he had, often he heard them gasp in wonder, others nearly cried and tried to pray to their Seven for protection, but he did not heed their worries, for it was not them he wanted._

_No he continued flying high and long into the night and the day, and the day after that. He hunted some of the livestock and often found himself wanting more, but he knew what he had been freed for and knew that he needed to find his rider’s love, before he could truly eat freely. As the mountains of the falcon came into view, it was dark, the sky was as black as sin, as black as Balerion had been when he had been a boy, the boy within him remembered. He was silent for his rider knew that the art to getting what he wanted lay in silence and patience, though the dragon inside of him clamoured to roar and burn down those who would dare take from him and his rider._

_He flew over the mountains of the moon, as the humans called them, flew over the Bloody Gate- a name provided by a long forgotten memory- and then as then as he got close to the castle of the falcon, he saw riders approaching, flying not the banner of the lion as they had when the rider’s love had been taken but the mockingbird of their actual lord. Serrax felt his rider grow angry, there was only one man he knew of who had a mockingbird for a sigil and that man was supposed to be a friend to the mother- who was not his mother- the fact that this man had taken his love from him deeply angered him. The man would pay for it with his life._

_He landed off away from the castle of the falcon in some woodlands, and watched as the riders brought in a woman who he knew was his rider’s love, she was unmoving though he could feel her heart beat in his head, almost as surely as he could feel her thoughts- and they were scared and confused- and with his greater vision he saw as the mockingbird man walked out to greet the riders, and laid a loving hand on the rider’s love’s face, and then kissed her. Serrax felt his rider’s anger mix in with his own- how dare this man kiss his queen, how dare he take what was not his-. Serrax roared his anger into the night, and when the birds fluttered out of the trees, and the men turned to look toward the woods where he was hidden he heard the rider’s love say, “Serrax.” And roared once more to let her know she was not alone._

In Riverrun, as Serrax roared and bellowed Jon Targaryen shot up in his bed and wincing with the pain shouted for Ser Barristan who came running into the room followed by Lady Catelyn and Brienne. Jon looked at them and then said “I know where Sansa is, send word to Robb. I want men sent to the Vale, they are to bring Sansa back and bring me Littlefinger. In chains."

 

 

 

 

 


	21. Harbringer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to heat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All belongs to GRRM. Only thing that's mine is this story's plot.

**Bran**

_Something about the way the raven screamed sent a shiver running up Bran’s spine. I am almost a man grown, he had to remind himself. I have to be brave now, But the air was sharp and cold and full of fear. Even Summer was afraid. The fur on his neck was bristling. Shadows stretched against the hillside, black and hungry. All the trees were bowed and twisted by the weight of ice they carried. Some hardly looked like trees at all. Buried from root to crown in frozen snow, they huddled on the hill like giants, monstrous and misshapen creatures hunched against the icy wind._

_“They are here.” The ranger drew his longsword._

_“Where?” Meera’s voice was hushed._

_“Close. I don’t know. Somewhere.”_

_The raven shrieked again. “Hodor,” whispered Hodor. He had his hands tucked up beneath his armpits. Icicles hung from the brown briar of his beard, and his moustache was a lump of frozen snot, glittering redly in the light of the sunset._

_“Those wolves are close as well,” Bran warned them. “The ones that have been following us. Summer can smell them whenever we’re downwind.”_

_“Wolves are the least of our woes,” said Coldhands. “We have to climb. It will be dark soon. You would do well to be inside before night comes. Your warmth will draw them.” He glanced to the west, where the light of the setting sun could be seen dimly through the trees, like the glow of a distant fire._

_“Is this the only way in?” asked Meera._

_“The back door is three leagues north, down a sinkhole.”_

_That was all he had to say. Not even Hodor could climb down into a sinkhole with Bran heavy on his back, and Jojen could no more walk three leagues than walk a thousand._

_Meera eyed the hill above. “The way looks clear.”_

_“Looks,” the ranger muttered darkly. “Can you feel the cold? There’s something here. Where are they?”_

_“Inside the cave?” suggested Meera._

_“The cave is warded. They cannot pass.” The ranger used his sword to point. “You can see the entrance there. Halfway up, between the weirwoods, that cleft in the rocks.”_

_“I see it,” said Bran. Ravens were flying in and out._

_Hodor shifted his weight. “Hodor.”_

_“A fold in the rock, that’s all I see.” Said Meera._

_“There’s a passage there. Steep and twisty at first, a runnel through the rock. If you can reach it, you’ll be safe.”_

_“What about you?”_

_“The cave is warded.”_

_Meera studied the cleft in the hillside. “It can’t be more than a thousand yards from here to there.”_

_No, thought Bran, but all those yards are upward. The hill was steep and thickly wooded. The snow had stopped three days ago, but none of it had melted. Beneath the trees, the ground was blanketed in white, still pristine and unbroken. “No one’s here,” said Bran, bravely. “Look at the snow. There are no footprints.”_

_“The white walkers go lightly on the snow,” the ranger said. “You’ll find no prints to mark their passage.” A raven descended from above to settle on his shoulder. Only a dozen of the big black birds remained with them. The rest had vanished along the way; every dawn when they arose, there had been fewer of them. “Come,” the bird squawked. “Come, come.”_

_The three eyed crow, thought Bran. The greenseer. “It’s not so far,” he said. “A little climb and we’ll be safe. Maybe we can have a fire.” All of them were cold and wet and hungry, except the ranger, and Jojen Reed was too weak to walk unaided._

_“You go.” Meera bent down beside her brother. He was settled in the bole of an oak, eyes closed, shivering violently. What little of his face could be seen beneath his hood and scarf was colourless as the surrounding snow, but breath still puffed faintly from his nostrils whenever he exhaled. Meera had been carrying him all day. Food and fire will set him right again, Bran tried to tell himself, though he wasn’t sure it would. “I can’t fight and carry Jojen both, the climb’s too steep,” Meera was saying. “Hodor, you take Bran up to that cave.”_

_“Hodor.” Hodor clapped his hands together._

_“Jojen just needs to eat,” Bran said, miserably. It had been twelve days since the elk had collapsed for the third and final time, since Coldhands had knelt beside it in the snowbank and murmured a blessing in some strange tongue as he slit its throat. Bran wept like a little girl when the bright blood came rushing out. He had never felt more like a cripple than he did then, watching helplessly as Meera and Coldhands butchered the brave beast who had carried them so far. He told himself he would not eat, that it was better to go hungry than to feast upon a friend, but in the end he’d eaten twice, once in his own skin and once in Summer’s. As gaunt and starved as the elk had been, the steaks the ranger had carved from him had sustained them for seven days, until they finished the last of them huddled over a fire in the ruins of an old hillfort._

_“He needs to eat,” Meera agreed, smoothing her brother’s brow. “We all do, but there’s no food here. Go.”_

_Bran blinked back a tear and felt it freeze upon his cheek. Coldhands took Hodor by the arm. “The light is fading. If they’re not here now, they will be soon. Come.”_

_Hodor followed Coldhands up the hill, all the while panting heavily from the exhaustion  that their journey and having to carry Bran had exerted on him. As they walked up the hill and it got gradually steeper, Bran counted the yards down till they were only sixty yards away from the entrance to the cave, when Hodor fell down into the snow, screaming and rolling around, crushing the crippled boy beneath him. Something has a hold of his leg, Bran thought as he watched Hodor thrash on the ground unable to move, and fearing each moment as if it could be his last._

_Wights descended on them from their alcoves on the hill, pulling and grabbing them with an intensity that scared Bran, they mean to kill me now where I am, Bran realised as he slipped into Hodor’s skin and felt them pushing and pulling at the stableboy, cutting him and making him bleed. As he felt the light begin to dim, back in his own mind Bran wondered dimly what Meera would think if he were to suddenly tell her he loved her._

_Up above them, flaming figures were dancing in the snow._

_The wights, Bran realized. Someone has set the wights on fire._

_Summer was snarling and snapping as he danced around the closest, a great ruin of a man wreathed in swirling flame. He shouldn’t get so close, what is he doing? Then he saw himself sprawled facedown in the snow. Summer was trying to drive the thing away from him. What will happen if it kills me? The boy wondered. Will I be Hodor for once and for all? Will I go back into Summer’s skin? Or will I just be dead?_

_The world moved dizzily around him. White trees, black sky, red flames, everything was whirling, shifting, spinning. He felt himself stumbling. He could hear Hodor screaming. A cloud of ravens was pouring from the cave, and he saw a little girl with a torch in hand darting this way and that. For a moment Bran thought it was his sister Arya.... madly for he knew his little sister was a thousand leagues away. And there she was whirling a scrawny thing, ragged, wild, and her hair atangle. Tears filled Hodor’s eyes and froze there._

_Everything turned inside out and upside down, and Bran found himself back inside his own skin, half buried in the snow. The burning wight loomed over him, etched tall against the trees in their snowy shrouds. It was one of the naked ones, Bran saw, in the instant before the nearest tree shook off the snow that covered it and dropped it all down upon his head._

_The next he knew he was lying on a bed of pine needles beneath a dark stone roof. The cave I’m in the cave. His mouth still tasted of blood where he’d bitten his tongue, but a fire was burning to his right, the heat washing over his face and he had never felt something so good. Summer was there, sniffing around him, and Hodor soaking wet. Meera cradled Jojen’s head in her lap. And the Arya thing stood over them, clutching her torch._

_“The snow,” Bran said. “It fell on me. Buried me.”_

_“Hid you. I pulled you out.” Meera nodded at the girl. “It was her who saved us though. The torch.... fire kills them.”_

_“Fire burns them. Fire is always hungry.” That was not Arya’s voice, nor any child’s. It was a woman’s voice, high and sweet, with a strange music in it like none he had ever heard and a sadness that he thought might break his heart. Bran squinted to see her better. It was a girl, but smaller than Arya, her skin dappled like a doe’s beneath a cloak of leaves. Her eyes were queer- large and liquid, gold and green, slitted, like cat’s eyes. No one has eyes like that. Her hair was a tangle of brown and red and gold, autumn colours, with vines and twigs and withered flowers wove through it._

_“Who are you?” Meera Reed was asking._

_Bran knew: “She’s a child. A child of the forest.” He shivered, as much from wonderment as from cold. They had fallen into one of Old Nan’s tales._

_“The First Men named us children,” the little woman said. “The giants called us woh dak nag gran, the squirrel people, because we were small and quick and fond of trees, but we are not squirrels, no children. Our name in the true tongue means those who sing the song of earth. Before your Old Tongue was ever spoken, we had sung our song, ten thousand years.”_

_Meera said, “You speak the Common Tongue now.”_

_“For him. The Bran boy. I was born in the time of the dragon, and for two hundred years I walked the world of men, to watch and listen and learn. I might be walking still but my legs were sore and my heart was weary, so I turned my feet for home.”_

_“Two hundred years?” said Meera._

_The child smiled. “Men, they are the children.”_

_“Do you have a name?” asked Bran._

_“When I need one.” She waved her torch toward the black crack in the back wall of the cave. “Our way is down. You must come with me now.”_

_Bran shivered again. “The ranger...”_

_“He cannot come.”_

_“They’ll kill him.”_

_“No. They killed him long ago. Come now. It is warmer down deep, and no one will hurt you there. He is waiting for you.”_

_They followed the child down the cave and past lines and lines of bones, and skulls of creatures, and once or twice Bran could have sworn he heard the whispering of voices deep within the cave, as well as the sound of a hammer hitting steel. Though whether or not these were actual sounds and not just his imagination he could not be sure._

_Eventually they came to a stop and before them a pale lord in ebon finery sat dreaming in a tangled nest of roots, a woven weirwood throne that embraced his withered limbs as a mother does a child._

_His body was so skeletal and his clothes so rotted that at first Bran took him for another corpse, a dead man propped up so long that the roots had grown over him, under him and through him. What skin the corpse lord showed was white, save for a bloody blotch that crept up his neck onto his cheek. His white hair was fine and long enough to brush against the earthen floor. Root coiled around his legs like wooden serpents. One burrowed through his breeches into the desiccated flesh of his thigh, to emerge from his skull, and grey mushrooms spotted his brow. A little skin remained, stretched across his face, tight and hard as white leather, but even that was fraying, and here and there the brown and yellow bone beneath was poking through._

_“Are you the three eyed crow?” Bran heard himself say. A three eyed crow should have three eyes. He has only one, and that one red. Bran could feel the eye staring at him, shining like a pool of blood in the torchlight. Where his other eye should have been, a thin white root grew from an empty socket, down his cheek and into his neck._

_“A...crow?” The pale lord’s voice was dry. His lips moved slowly, as if they had forgotten how to form words. “Once, aye. Black of garb and black of blood.” The clothes he wore were rotten and faded, spotted with moss and eaten through with worms, but once they had been black. “I have been many things Bran. Now I am as you see me, and now you will understand why I could not come to you...except in dreams. I have watched you for a very long time, watched you with a thousand eyes and one. I saw your birth, and that of your lord father before you. I saw your first step, heard your first word, and was part of your first dream. I was watching when you fell. And now you are come to me at last Brandon Stark, though the hour is late.”_

_“I’m here,” Bran said, “only I’m broken. Will you... will you fix me... my legs I mean?”_

_“No,” said the pale lord. “That is beyond my powers.”_

_Bran’s eyes filled with tears. We came such a long way._

_“You will never walk again, Bran,” the pale lips promised, “but you will fly.”_

* * *

**Edmure**

Edmure cut through yet another bastard wearing the crimson red of the Lannisters, and sighed. They’d been fighting for three days now, ever since word had reached Harrenhal of Lannisters and Tyrells being camped close by, everyone had been extremely nervous, though strangely enough the Lannister- Tyrell force led by Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell did not seem keen to push on for whatever reason, and that confused Edmure deeply though he was determined not to let them get away again.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a big figure running toward him with their sword raised, Edmure managed to avoid their swing, and then managed to quickly jab his sword into the man’s chest before pulling back and then raising his sword to block the man’s swing. Before managing rather luckily he supposed plunging his sword straight into the man’s chest before pulling his sword out again and watched as the man wearing the sigil of House Crakehall on his armour fell to the ground dead.

Edmure’s respite however was brief, another bloody Crakehall bastard came running at him swinging his sword like a mad man, it was all mad thrusts and jabs from this Crakehall and it took all Edmure had in him to continue to raise his sword to block the man’s swings, even though he could fell his arms jarring each time steel met steel. Eventually the man managed to get a nick on his armour, and Edmure could feel blood coming out of his arm, in retaliation Edmure sent a series of swings at the man connecting a few times to draw a lot of blood, before they were back to swinging and blocking each other again. Then Edmure spotted a gap in the man’s armour between his chest and shoulder, managing to knock the man’s sword away from him just quick enough to plunge his sword into the gap before pulling out, Edmure moved away from the man as he began to bleed to his death.

Edmure then came across a man with the grape cluster of House Redwyne on his armour. The dance began again Edmure moved on from the man and continued hacking and slashing through the ranks of the Lannister and Tyrell soldiers in his path, before he came face to face with Ser Loras Tyrell the Knight of Flowers.

The two men began exchanging several choice words to each other before circling each other on their horses. Edmure was the first to break the circling bringing his horse closer to Ser Loras and swinging at him and connecting and hitting the exposed flesh of the younger man’s leg. Ser Loras managed to do one better and struck Edmure high on his chest. Then they were clashing steel against one another, neither willing to give ground to the other. Before breaking apart and resuming the dance once more steel on steel and it was as if time had come to a standstill for Edmure, all he heard was the sound of steel on steel and occasionally the sound of steel denting armour and the feeling of pain as another wound opened up on his body.

Edmure noted that Ser Loras seemed to be wielding a dark steel blade; he wondered where the man had gotten it from, Edmure couldn’t stop to dwell on his thoughts for much longer though for he was soon back in a trance like state as steel clashed with steel, and wounds were opened both fresh and old on both men’s bodies but neither man seemed willing to accept defeat and die.

Eventually Edmure felt as if he was going to pass out from the amount of pain he was in as well as the amount of blood he had lost, and it looked to him as if the mighty Ser Loras Lannister was experiencing the same problems. Using what little remained of his strength Edmure managed to raise his sword with enough force to knock Ser Loras sword out of his hand and swing back up and he felt his sword connect with skin, but he wasn’t too sure how that could be, but all doubts were soon wiped from his mind as Edmure slumped on his horse and saw black.

Edmure awoke in his tent some hours later to a feeling of deep pain, wincing he tried to sit up but found himself unable to. Taking note of the darkness in the tent and outside, he supposed that it was night time, and wondered briefly what the outcome of the battle had been, and whether or not Ser Loras had lived or not. He pressed his hands to his sides and winced once more as he felt a sharp jolt of pain shoot up through him, this time his cries brought a maester scurrying into his tent, carrying some foul smelling ointment. The maester lifted the quilt and moved Edmure’s hands out of the way and applied the ointment to the wounds on Edmure’s sides and chest, all the while Edmure tried to bite back the gasps of pain that kept threatening to escape his lips.

Eventually the maester finished his ministrations and left the tent, but as he left the tent flap was open, and Edmure could here not a single sound from outside and began to deeply worry. What had happened during the course of the battle, when he had found Ser Loras it had been clear that his and Bronze Yohn’s men were gaining ground as it were, for the Lannisters and the Tyrell forces seemed deeply reluctant to actually engage in battle for some reason, which ultimately mean that they seemed to be losing far more men than the River or Valemen were. Edmure decided to let it be for the time being and to call upon Lord Royce when in the morning. As he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him Edmure found that he was dreaming of his wife, who was far away and relatively safe in the Twins and whom had written to him to tell him that she was with child. He wondered if it would be a boy or a girl.

Morning came, and Edmure forced himself to get out of bed despite the protests of the army maester. As he got out of his tent wearing a shirt and breeches, he saw the snow on the ground and also saw that some patches of it were littered with blood. He made his way over to the command tent, and upon entering it found Lord Royce, Lord Corbray, Lord Blackwood and Lord Bracken deep in discussion, they stopped upon seeing him standing in the entrance. Lord Royce grimaced and said “My Lord of Tully, it is good to see you. But should you not be in bed?”

Edmure grimaced also and replied, “I wish to know what the outcome of the battle was my lords.”

He began to worry when he saw them look at each other, unsure looks on each of their faces. Lord Blackwood broke the tension. “Well Ser Loras lies injured in our cells, and you should be in bed my lord, your bandages are staining. But other than that we are not sure. The Lannister- Tyrell forces as you know did not seem willing to commit to full on battle, and at one point the retreated south, we did not give chase for we needed to tend to our wounded. But our scouts report that they made way for Sow’s Horn in the south.”

Edmure sighed and asked, “Has there been word from Lord Tarly about what happened at the Blue Fork?”

Lord Royce nodded and said, “Lord Dickon Tarly, wrote to us and said that Lord Rowan and his host have been defeated and put to the sword. Lord Randyll was killed as were several other major lords. We do believe that the Lannisters may have retreated back south to plan their next move.”

Edmure sighed and said “Very well then, we must write to Riverrun to inform them.”

* * *

**Robb**

The journey to Maidenpool had taken them longer than expected. What should have been a comfortable two week journey, had because of war and the weather taken them a full month. It had taken its toll, as he looked into the mirror Robb could see the beginning of a few grey hairs appearing in amongst in auburn curls, and sighed. Along with the war, the constant fighting and the worry over whether or not they would find Sansa alive or not, Robb was surprised that he had not snapped.

It also did not help, he thought to himself that Jon’s aunt Danaerys seemed to be hell bent on making the whole purpose of his trip here a living nightmare for him. She had been a courtliest enough hostess when he had first arrived in Maidenpool a week  ago, treating him and his companions with food and drink, and allowing them sometime to relax and get rested. But then when it had come to the actual discussion of an alliance she had prove very, very unreliable and had shifted from one position to the next with alarming regularity.

She had started off by claiming that she wished to simply help Jon win back the Iron Throne and get Sansa back. And that she too wished to see the Lannisters pay for what they had done, to both their respective families. She said not a word about Jon’s claim or who would actually rule the Kingdoms once the fighting was done, she simply stated that she wished to help restore her family to their rightful position as rulers of Westeros. Then she had begun ranting and raving at Robb, about how she seriously doubted the truth of Jon’s claim to the throne, and that he was only a pretender to her throne, that he was a “mummer’s dragon”, and that she Danaerys Targaryen was the only rightful ruler of the Iron Throne and Westeros. She had gone on to say how slighted she felt that her “nephew” had sent her the son of one of the usurper’s dogs as an envoy, and questioned why Jon had not come himself. When Robb had tried to point out that Jon had been severly injured during Sansa’s kidnapping, Danaerys had laughed and had told him in no uncertain terms that no true dragon would allow a minor wound to stop them from getting what they truly wanted.

Robb had been completely surprised by the sudden change in Danaerys’s attitude and approach to their negotiating. It was like he was speaking to two completely different people, and it seemed like the words once spoke by King Jahaerys II about the gods tossing a coin each time a Targaryen was born to see where it would land, was definitely true. For whilst it seemed that the coin had landed on greatness for Jon, the gods were still undecided about Danaerys.  He supposed it did not help that Danaerys always listened to the words of advice spoken to her by her “bear” the exile Jorah Mormont, whom Robb vaguely remembered as having fled Westeros when Robb’s lord father had come to Bear Island to meet out justice to Jorah for selling slaves.  It became apparent very quickly to Robb and his companions that Ser Jorah had his own agenda, and from the way he looked at Danaerys as if she hung the moon, Robb suspected he knew what that agenda was, though he had not openly voiced it to his companions or in Danaerys’ company for fear of in sighting her wrath, or more importantly her dragons’ wrath.

Her dragons- Rhaegal and Viserion- flew high above the city of Maidenpool, roaring and screeching for all to hear. It was quite an intimidating sight, though of course her dragons were nowhere near as big as Jon’s Serrax, a point that Robb had almost let slip out, when Danaerys had been going on about how she with her two dragons would win the throne back for herself, with fire and blood. Robb had been tempted to point out that if it did come to battle between Jon and Danaerys, then it was more than likely that Jon would win, simply because Jon and Serrax had more experience as rider and dragon together in battle, than Danaerys likely did. Plus it was evident that whatever control Danaerys might exercise over her dragons, it was tenuous at best, nothing like the control Jon had over Serrax. And that was something that deeply concerned Robb and his companions, how could they trust Danaerys and her dragons to act with them against the Lannisters, when they did not know whether or not Danaerys’ dragons would act with her or against her.

To make matters worse, at least in Robb’s opinion, the red priestess who had been Stannis’s shadow had now taken up residence with Danaerys and claimed that she was her red god’s chosen one, and that she was the one who would lead Westeros from the darkness and into the light. This of course had made things so much more difficult, for now it seemed as if Danaerys would openly challenge Jon’s claim to the throne, simply because the red woman who had claimed Stannis as her Lord’s chosen was now claiming her as the chosen one. If she did challenge Jon’s claim to the throne then it was likely that they would have to fight a war on two fronts, which could turn out to be very costly and just the thing that would make the Lannisters feel right at home.

So Robb was surprised when he heard a knock on his room door, and opened it to find himself staring down at Danaerys Stormborn herself. She was wearing a very revealing lilac dress, and her hair was falling about her face and neck, and as she looked up at him with her violet eyes, Robb felt his breath catch.

He heard her laugh. “My Lord of Stark, are you not even going to invite me in?”

Robb could only wordlessly nod, and beckon her in. She laughed again and sauntered into his room closing the door behind her as she entered. She stood before him once more and then said. “I have made up my mind and have an answer for you to give to your cousin, about our proposed alliance.”

Robb nodded dumbly, Danaerys chuckled again and said “I have decided to ally myself with Jon, and shall provide my strength to his as we fight the Lannisters and the Tyrells and march on King’s Landing. Once the city is taken I expect the two of us to discuss who shall be ruling the city and the kingdom.”

Robb nodded again, Danaerys smiled up at him, then got on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth before, getting down again and making to walk out the room, but just before she left she turned round and said to him. “It is a shame that you are already married Lord Stark. I think the two of us could have got along famously.” She walked out the door, closing it behind her and leaving Robb in a dazed and confused state of mind.

* * *

**Sansa**

She was scared, that much Sansa knew. One minute she had been talking with Arya, the next minute there had been complete chaos for Ser Raynald Westerling, Jeyne’s brother had stabbed Jon in the stomach. Everyone had then tried to hurry back into the castle, and had not heard the sounds of oncoming hooves and had not seen the flying Lannister banners. Sansa had though and she had tried to make her way as quickly back to Riverrun’s courtyard as possible, she had given Arya to her mother but then had been lost in the rabble as everyone in attendance hurried to get inside and make sure that Jon did not lose too much blood.  Before she knew what was happening she had felt strong arms wrap around her waist and hoist her up onto a horse. She had screamed then, screamed and screamed even as the man who had taken her rode away and no help seemed forthcoming. She had screamed until the man holding her had hit her on the head and knocked her out.

When she had woken, she had heard the sound of a river flowing through nearby, and had raised her head tentatively and found herself on the banks of the Red Fork. She had gotten up then and looked around her, to find her bearings and that had been when she had seen the flying crimson red Lannister banners and had felt dread pool up in the pit of her stomach. Her kidnappers had been the Lannisters and they were no doubt about to take her back to King’s Landing, back to Joffrey and Cersei and their punishments. She had put her hands protectively around her stomach then, for she was with child, be it a boy or a girl she knew not, but she knew she would protect it with her life if she had to. That same day her captors had ridden further east, continuing past the red fork, and only stopping late that night when they reached the banks of the Trident.

There Sansa had seen the banners of House Rowan flying as well as the banners of House Lannister and Joffrey’s own sigil- the lion and the stag combatant- and her feeling of dread had intensified. They were definitely going to be taking her back to King’s Landing now, and who knew what sort of punishments she would face, firstly for escaping and secondly for now being with child, Jon’s child. Her captors had let her down when they reached camp, and had led her to a tent, not Lord Rowan’s tent though, but the tent which had the banner of a goat flying on it. The man she had been presented to had leered at her and had slathered at her when he had spoke, he had talked about how he would get such a reward for delivering the Targaryen boy’s wife to the Lannisters.

He had then taken her along with his men- whom he called the brave companions, though they were not brave at all in Sansa’s opinion, merely stupid and scary- they had continued their journey east, and had ridden hard and long. They had stopped at various inns on their journey, and often the men of the Brave Companions would get drunk and speak of all the riches and gold that they would get from giving her back to the Lannisters. But there had been one man, the man she had met at the Trident whose banner was that of a goat, who said nothing whilst his men drunkenly talked of what they would do with the Lannister gold, until one night as Sansa was getting ready for bed, he stumbled into her room and held a knife to her throat and told her in his slathering voice “We vis, not voing to Vannisters. Oh no. I am not such a vool as that. No ve vo to the Vale oh yes. Vo vhe vale we vo.”

Sansa had not understood that, why would he take her not to the Lannisters but to the Vale, the Vale had declared for Jon, and these men were clearly working for the Lannisters so why would they betray them?  It had all become clearer when they had eventually arrived at the gates of the Eyrie seat to House Arryn and home to her aunt Lysa, her cousin Robert and as she learnt as she was forced down from her horse, Lord Baelish. Sansa had felt her heart sink when she saw Lord Baelish standing on the steps of the Eyrie watching her with hungry eyes, and a sly smile on his face. He was a Lannister man, he had been a friend of her mother’s but he was a Lannister man he still worked for the Lannisters. She knew it deep down in her bones, she knew that he would give her back to the Lannisters for whatever reward they would give him.

When she had been forced from her horse and made to kneel before him, he had laughed and lifted her up, and she could have sworn she hear him murmur his mother’s name before he kissed her full on the mouth. He broke the kiss when a deep threatening roar could be heard echoing throughout the grounds and the surrounding area, and she had known, just known that somehow Serrax- Jon’s dragon- was nearby, and judging by the look of absolute terror that crossed the Brave Companions faces as well as the look of mild panic that crossed Lord Baelish’s face briefly, she knew that they knew as well what had caused that noise.

Of course Baelish had paid the Brave Companions and sent them on their way. He had then led Sansa into the Eyrie, and had promised to protect her and look after her for the time being, all the while looking at her like she was a piece of meat. It had been a few weeks since that day, and each day she grew more and more worried about what Lord Baelish’s intentions towards her were, every time they were together in company or in front of her aunt, he would play the caring man, always asking after her health and such, but in private he stole kisses and sometimes forced her to do more for him, all the while with a sly smile on his face and words of protection and that he was doing what was best for her on his lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	22. That Was Just Your Life

**Benjen**

It was cold, then again it was always cold this far north, always had been, always would be. The cold of the wall often reminded Lord Commander Benjen Stark of wintry nights in the halls of Winterfell, sitting by the fire with his father and siblings, listening as Old Nan or his mother recounted stories from ages past, or playing in the snows that often graced Winterfell’s gardens and courtyard during Winter or Summer, running around throwing snowballs and making snowmen with Lya. Of course that had been long ago when he had still had dreams of perhaps becoming a knight in the south, or becoming the captain of his elder brother’s guard in Winterfell- back when the world had seemed normal, when it had been Brandon set to marry Catelyn Tully, and Lya was to marry Robert Baratheon, Ned’s oldest friend, before Harrenhal, before the dragon idiot set eyes on his sister and made her lose sense of her honour and her duty with a few sweet poisonous words. But of course, Harrenhal had happened, Robert’s Rebellion had happened, and at the end of it all it had just been him and Ned left of the pack, and Ned had brought home a young southern bride and two boys, he needed to get his own house in order and did not need to be buried under the doubts and guilt that wracked his younger sibling.

So Benjen Stark had made a decision one day sixteen years ago, he remembered the recruiter who had come calling in Harrenhal and when the same man came and stopped by Winterfell one day in the early years of Robert’s reign, Benjen had decided to ride north with him when he returned. Sixteen years he had been at the wall, slowly working his way up the ranks, and clamping down on his guilt and regrets. Yes the cold of the wall had always been a reminder of his home, the only true reminder of Winterfell that he would need without it dredging up old memories- painful memories, memories that were better left not thought about and buried in the recesses of his mind- at least that had been the case until he had returned from his ranging. He had seen the dead come back to life, he had felt the unnatural chill of the White Walkers as they had converged on his men, he had fought the wildlings, though he knew it was a futile effort, for they were only doing what was a normal human instinct fleeing south from the dangers of the furthermost north. No, once the cold had been a balm to Benjen Stark’s hurts and memories, now it was merely a reminder of the upcoming war that he would have to fight.

After the fighting with the Wildlings, the Watch had been left with no commander- Mormont having been killed in his tower, Marsh having taken a severe wound, old Donal Noye dead at the hands of a giant- Elections had been called, and the cronies from Kingslanding Janos Slynt and Allister Thorne had put themselves forward, though both men had done nothing to prove themselves during the battle. Ser Denys Mallister and Cotter Pyke had also put their names forward, though both had withdrawn once Benjen had made it clear that he intended to stand for the post, for though he knew Ser Denys and Cotter Pyke meant well, both men were incredibly stubborn and did not truly appreciate the depth of the threat that was coming from the north. Truth be told neither did he, but he had some sort of idea, and so he had been elected the 998th Lord Commander by his sworn brothers, and had begun the momentous task of preparing for both a potential wildling invasion and the oncoming war with death itself.

As it turned out the task of dealing with the Wildlings was much less stressful than he had first imagined. Their numbers had been significantly reduced during the battle, thanks to help from Robb and Jon, especially from Jon’s behemoth of a dragon, Mance Rayder, Tormund Giantsbane and Rattleshirt had all been killed during the battle, and the three were major wildling commanders, those wildlings that had not perished at the hands of dragonfire or from steel, had either been captured and sworn to help defend the wall or had fled with the Weeper. It was the man himself, not the potential men and women he commanded that worried Benjen. During his long years as a sworn brother, the Weeper had crossed the wall several times, each time coming back with more plunder and loot, he had never been caught despite the attempts of some of the best rangers the Watch had ever seen, it was rumoured that it was the Weeper who encourage Mance Rayder’s bid to become King Beyond the Wall. Yes, the Weeper himself would be more of a challenge; the man Benjen knew would be stubborn and unyielding and would try and lead his people over the wall over as many black brother’s corpses as he possibly could. Benjen had sent several scouting parties out to see if they could track the man’s movements, so far only two of the parties he had sent out had come back, both reporting the same thing, the Weeper was gathering the remenants of Mance Rayder’s host and marching south.

Of the White Walkers they had no news, but Benjen had already set Samwell Tarly off to the old library in Castle Black to find out what he could of these mysterious creatures, as well as asking Maester Aemon- the fountain of knowledge that he was- what he knew of the pale white creatures, who seemed to be the very embodiment of death itself.  As it turned out information about the White Walkers was scarce in Castle Black, and even Maester Aemon himself seemed devoid of any significant knowledge about them, something which deeply surprised Benjen, considering that the old maester had often appeared to know everything that there was to know about the world. He had therefore resolved to send Samwell off to Oldtown and the citadel, where he would train to become a maester and to learn what he could about the white walkers, if the Citadel had the books needed to learn what they could.

Letters from Shadow Tower and Eastwatch reported seeing a great host of wildlings approaching at a fast pace, and Benjen gave orders for more men to be dispatched to both castles, though after giving the orders he noticed that Castle Black itself seemed rather poorly garrisoned, and was tempted to recall his men, but thought of something he had once overheard his lord father tell Brandon once when he was very young : _It is always important, that before you give an order you think about what the possible consequences of that order could be. For if you give an order and then begin to doubt it, your men will doubt it also and question you._

It was he was thinking this through that Maester Clydas knocked on his door and announced that a scouting party had returned to Castle Black bearing urgent news with regards to the White Walkers.

* * *

**Victarion**

_A Kingsmoot had been called when word had reached Pyke of Balon’s death. With Asha dead and Theon still a prisoner of the Greenlanders, the Damphair had announced that a Kingsmoot- the first in centuries was to be held- all the great houses of the Iron Islands had come together on Great Wyk to decide who should be the next King of the Islands. He knew that if his brother had his way, it would be him Victarion that sat on the Seastone Chair, not the Crow’s Eye. No never the crow’s eye. That man, though he shared the same blood as both Victarion and the Damphair, was not Ironborn enough to sit the Seastone chair, nor was he godly enough. Since the man had been exiled, many strange and horrifying rumours had reached the ears of the remaining Greyjoy brothers, tales of dark magic and sacrifices, and secret dealings had been the talk of Euron Crow’s Eye, whenever he was mentioned._

_The men upon the shore had spied their sails. Shouts echoed across the bay as friends and kin called out greetings. But not from Silence. On her decks a motley crew of mutes and mongrels spoke no word as the Iron Victory drew nigh. Men black as tar stared out at him and others squat and hairy as the apes of Sothoros. Monsters, Victarion thought._

_They dropped anchor twenty yards from Silence. “Lower a boat. I would go ashore.” He buckled on his swordbelt as the rowers took their places; his longsword rested on one hip, a dirk upon the other. Nute the barber fastened the Lord Captain’s cloak about his shoulders. It was made of nine layers of cloth of gold, sewn in the shape of the kraken of Greyjoy arms, dangling to his boots. Beneath he wore heavy grey chainmail over boiled black leather. In Moat Cailin he had taken to wearing mail day and night. Sore shoulders and an aching back were easier to bear than bloody bowels. The poisoned arrows of the bog devils need only scratch a man, and a few hours later he would be squirting and screaming as his life ran down his legs in gouts of red and brown. Whoever wins the Seastone Chair, I shall deal with the bog devils. He had been called from Moat Cailin by a raven from Pyke, instructing him to leave a token force behind and make haste for Pyke, Balon meant to take Winterfell and needed the islands protected. He had been close to home when he had received the raven write in the hand of the Bolton Bastard proclaiming his brother’s death._

_Victarion donned a tall black warhelm, wrought in the shape of an iron kraken, its arms coiled down around his cheeks to meet beneath his jaw. By then the boat was ready. “I put the chests into your charge,” he told Nute as he climbed over the side. “See that they are strongly guarded.” Much depended on the chests._

_“As you command, Your Grace.”_

_Victarion returned a sour scowl. “I am no king as yet.” He clambered down into the boat. Aeron Damphair was waiting for him in the surf with his waterskin slung beneath one arm. The priest was gaunt and tall, though shorter than Victarion. His nose rose like a shark’s fin from a bony face, and his eyes were iron. His beard reached to his waist, and tangled ropes of hair slapped at the back of his legs when the wind blew. “Brother,” he said as the waves broke white and cold around their ankles, “what is dead can never die.”_

_“But rises again, harder and stronger.” Victarion lifted off his helm and knelt. The bay filled his boots and soaked his breeches as Aeron poured a stream of salt water down upon his brow. And so they prayed._

_The Damphair helped Victarion stand and then led him to the shore, away from the din coming from the assembled tents. In hushed tones he spoke to Victarion. “Brother, you must push your claim. You must. Euron is a godless man who surrounds himself with monsters and sinners. The Drowned one has shown me what will happen to our people if Euron becomes King, and it is not a future I like, nor is it one we should allow to fall on our people.”_

_Victarion stared hard at his brother and asked. “What are in these visions brother, what has you so scared?”_

_The Damphair looked around them once then twice, the drew in closer and almost whispered into Victarion’s ear, “If the Crow’s Eye becomes king, Nagga shall rise from the grave, and our dead will walk through our islands with wight eyes, for the Crow’s Eye has given his life away.”_

_Victarion sighed. “What would you have me do brother? It is a crime in the eyes of god and men to be a kinslayer. I promised Balon – may he rest in peace- that I would never harm Euron so long as we both drew breath.”_

_The Damphair gave an enigmatic smile and said. “Brother, Balon is dead- may he rest in the drowned god’s watery halls- but Euron and his crimes live on. Why should he become King, when you are the more deserving, the more holy candidate? Why should he take what the Seastone chair?”_

_“Because it is his right as the elder brother.”_

_“Ah but if we were to go by rights, Theon would be king not you nor Euron. But we are not here to elect Theon as King are we?”_

_“That is because he is still in the hands of the Greenlanders though!” Victarion protested._

_“Yes but he made no attempt to come back to us did he. He has forgotten his roots and has become soft; he abandoned his true family in order to fight for the ones who took his father, brothers, sister and mother’s lives. He is no Ironborn, merely a pup lost in his skin. He is not fit to be king.”_

_Victarion sighed. “What would you have me do?”_

_The Damphair smiled a sly smile. “Challenge Euron to the finger dance, not the one the children play but the finger dance of Nagga, he cannot refuse you and still hope to be king.”_

_Victarion sighed and said. “Very well then brother, I shall challenge the Crow’s Eye.”_

* * *

**Bran**

_The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. A pale sun rose and set and rose again. Red leaves whispered in the wind. Dark clouds filled the skies and turned to storms. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and dead men with black hands and bright blue eyes shuffled round a cleft in the hillside but could not enter. Under the hill, the broken boy sat upon a weirwood throne, listening to whispers in the dark, as ravens walked up and down his arms._

_“You will never walk again,” the three eyed crow had promised, “but you will fly.” Sometimes the sound of song would drift up from someplace far below. The children of the forest, Old Nan would have called the singers, but those who sing the song of earth was their own name for themselves, in the True Tongue that no human could speak. The ravens could speak it though. Their small black eyes were full of secrets, and they would caw at him and peck his skin when they heard the songs._

_After the bone grinding cold of the lands beyond the Wall, the caves were blessedly warm, and when the chill crept out of the rock the singers would light fires to drive it off again. Down here there was no wind, no snow, no ice, no dead things reaching out to grab you, only dreams and rushlight and the kisses of the ravens._

_The moon was fat and full. Stars wheeled across a black sky. Rain fell and froze, and tree limbs snapped from the weight of the ice. Bran and Meera had made up names for those who sang the song of earth: Ash, Leaf, Scales, Black Knife, Snowylocks and Coals. Their true names were too long for human tongues, said Leaf. Only she could speak the Common Tongue, so what the others thought of their new names Bran never learned._

_But there were a few new things that Bran learnt during his time in the cave of the Children. He learnt that the three eyed crow, was called the last greenseer by the Children, that he had once been called Brynden and that he had once fought in a great war some hundred years before Bran had even been born. He learnt that the three eyed crow, too had been led to this very same cave some fifty years ago, when he had been out ranging. He had been led out to the cave by the Children, and there had met the last king of the Children of the Forest. The creature who, the three eyed crow said had fought in the Battle for the Dawn alongside the last hero. This king had many names, the three eyed crow said, some had said in the years and centuries following the battle that the child king had been a god come to help the world in its hour of darkness, others said that it had been a wizard, or a creation of the imagination. The three eyed crow said that it was all of these things and more, and that Bran would have heard of the child king in his stories told to him by Old Nan- that the three eyed crow knew of old Nan was enough to convince Bran that what he said next must be true- the child king had married into House Stark, had provided it’s sword to House Stark’s founder and presented its knowledge of magic to the founder. The one known as Brandon the builder had married the last child king, and from their union the line of House Stark had been produced._

_The three eyed crow also went onto to tell Bran about how his family had been tied to the fate of the Wall and the Night’s Watch ever since the day Brandon the Builder had raised the Wall. The stories told in the night to tell children to behave, about how the Wall was there to protect them from wildlings was all a lie, said the three eyed crow. He said that Bran had seen the truth for the Wall’s purpose as he had made his way to the cave of the children. That the wall had been raised to keep the darkness out of the land, that it had been built to keep the White Walkers and the dead out.  The three eyed crow said that for as long as there was magic in the realm and the people of the north remained vigilant, there was no chance for the White Walkers to return. But, he said two hundred years ago when the last dragon died, the White Walkers began to awaken from their slumber and began preparing for an invasion, a second Long Night, he called it._

_The three eyed crow said that the White Walkers would be much more powerful now than they had been during the first Long Night, for this time their sworn enemy had been born and was claiming his throne. Bran did not understand what he meant by that, nor did he truly understand what he meant when he said that there had to be three heads to defeat the White Walkers once and for all, and that only two had been found. There was much that the three eyed crow told Bran that he did not truly understand, but he listened none the less and as he was taught all about using his different skins to see the world through new eyes, and as he was taught to see the past, the present and the future, he learnt about how his role in the coming years would be to observe the realm, and where he felt necessary make changes to the future, if he felt that one outcome would be to catastrophic. But he was warned that he could never, never, ever use his power for his own use. He could use it to change events that needed to happen, for that would be playing the hand of the gods, and that the three eyed crow said was something that they were not._

_It was during one such vision, as he sat in his weirwood throne that Bran Stark, the Prince of the Green saw death and destruction on a field of white stained red, and saw dragons, three of them flying high in the air burning all in their path, and he saw White Walkers dying and killing. But most of all he saw the Wall, in all its icy glory, falling and collapsing and signalling the battle. The start of the Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn._

* * *

**Jon**

Snow lay heavy on the grounds outside Riverrun. Winter had truly come and with a vengeance. It had also brought with it more news of the war. From Harrenhal they received word that the forces led by Lord Edmure and Lord Royce had fought the Lannister- Tyrell host, and had inflicted some serious damage onto the host, forcing it to retreat back to Sow’s Horn. But they also wrote that Lord Edmure had been seriously injured during the fighting, most specifically during a fight against Loras Tyrell, which had ended in Ser Loras dying from his wounds some days later and Lord Edmure still holding onto his life by the skin of his teeth.

Robb had also returned after being away from Riverrun for two months, he brought with him Danaerys Targaryen- Jon’s aunt, though it was hard to accept her as such when she was so young, no older than him truth be told- and her two dragons and the 9,000 men of the Golden Company, plus Stannis Baratheon’s red woman, Melisandre. Danaerys had bent the knee to him, yet Jon was always weary whenever he spoke to her or was in her presence, for he got the feeling that she was waiting for an opportunity, any opportunity to prove herself more of a dragon, more of a ruler than him. He had to admit she had some strange concepts of ruling, she seemed more inclined to take back the Iron Throne through simply using their dragons, and whilst Jon admitted that, that might solve a few problems it was no way to truly win the people of Westeros over to their cause, as he had said many a time during many a heated argument with his aunt.

Their progress was not helped he thought by the constant whisperings of Ser Jorah Mormont,  who by all rights was a condemned man, having fled justice many years ago when Jon had just been barely more than a babe, the same age as Rickon was now. He had pointed this out to Robb one day, when it was just them and Ser Barristan and Aunt Catelyn, and he asked Robb why he had not taken the man’s head there and then, and Robb had stuttered and spluttered before finally saying that it did not seem prudent to do so when it was clear that Danaerys found Ser Jorah’s council and presence all the more assuring. Though from what Jon could gather from Ser Barristan and Lord Connington, the man was by all accounts a bit of a brute, and his true motives for staying with Danaerys were to be questioned thoroughly and he was to be kept watch on always, something Jon had been reluctant to do at first, though he had gone through with having some men look around and see what Ser Jorah was truly about. As of yet they had found nothing suspicious. And yet Jon could not help feel like he was missing something, some valuable piece of information that could make it that much easier to truly understand Danaerys who was a part of this other family that Jon belonged to, but did not truly feel connected with. There was something about her, the way she spoke, the way she acted that deeply unsettled him, it was almost as if she was truly planning to do something to him, almost as if their current inaction was frustrating her, and she seemed like to do something rash.

That something manifested itself through her proposal that they marry, following on with the Targaryen tradition, Jon was horrified by the idea. He was married to Sansa- whom he loved, who held a place in his heart that none else could- even if he was not married to Sansa, he did not think he could give himself to Danaerys, and when she suggested that it would be better that he marry her now, for Sansa could very well be dead, Jon had nearly lost it and had almost decided to throw her out, but Robb’s hand on his arm, and Aunt Catelyn’s soothing words had calmed his temper. He would not give up on Sansa he could not give up on Sansa.

Serrax had returned to Riverrun some days ago, and with him had come an attached note, from King’s Landing written in the Spider’s hand, and it explained how the Spider was doing all he could to make sure that Sansa stayed safe and escaped soon, though she would be great with child now, and Jon worried that perhaps the stress of escaping and travelling would be too much for her to cope with. He wondered if he should not just fly to the Eyrie now and burn Lord Baelish out of his hovel and have him burnt, or better yet hung, drawn and quartered for daring to take Sansa, for having the gall of claiming to be a friend to the man Jon would always see as his father, and then betraying him at the moment it suited him.

As Jon brooded over various decisions to do with Danaerys and Sansa, Robb and Lord Connington began organising the next military campaign. Their scouts had reported that Tywin Lannister was moving his host from Sow’s Horn and was planning on marching to the Trident. It had been taken into consideration that perhaps they could be delayed on their way there, but that had been knocked down and instead, they were allowed through. Jon was told that they would be marching for the Trident very soon, and all three dragons would need to be used to fully deal with the Lannister threat, despite whatever objections or moral qualms anyone had about using all three dragons, it was agreed that that was the only way to truly finish this war once and for all.  Then they could march on King’s Landing, and take it, and if Sansa was not free by then, Jon swore to himself that he would fly to the Vale and burn Lord Baelish and anyone who stood in his way. He would let them harm his wife ever again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	23. Addicted To Pain

**Victarion**

The Kingsmoot had been called, the lords of the Iron Islands had gathered in Old Wyk expecting to hear the boasts of potential kings, the boasts of the glories they would bring to the Ironborn if they were made king. Boasts they heard, boasts from old men and green boys alike. Boasts of how if made king they would make the Greenlanders fear the Ironborn like they did in the days of King Harren, boasts of how the riches and plunder from the Rock and the Reach would be brought back to the Iron Islands, and the islands would become fat with their riches. This all Victarion heard during the kingsmoot, all the while knew that no one of these men who would claim to be king would actually become king. No, for the Damphair had made it so that the two main contenders would be Victarion himself, and their treacherous brother the Crow’s Eye.

When it came for his turn to speak, Victarion promised to bring the Ironborn, not the gold nor glory that the other contenders promised, but he promised to bring them respect and fear. He promised that never again would the Greenlanders look upon the Ironborn with derision, no longer would they snort and turn their heads at the Old Way. No, Victarion promised that should he become king, the Ironborn would be as they were during the old days, the Old Way strong and vibrant, the Greenlanders quivering in their boots and castles. This all he promised, and all the while he waited for the Crow’s Eye to appear.

The Crow’s Eye did eventually appear, though he did not appear in a quiet fashion, for that was not the man’s way. No he came on the heels of a horn blast, that cost his horn blower’s life, and proclaimed that he could bring the Iron Islands, all that had been promised to them by the other contenders and more. When asked how he would do this, Euron merely smiled an enigmatic smile and replied that he had found a dragon horn in the smoking ruins of Valryia, and this horn would allow him to bind the dragons that the Targaryen boy and Danaerys Targaryen had to his cause. And he would use the horn and the dragons to become King of Westeros, and he would marry the Targaryen girl, and kill the Targaryen boy.

Shouts for Euron to become king echoed round the grounds of Old Wyk, and Victarion could sense his brother- the Damphair- fear that Euron would become king. So deciding to forgo tradition, Victarion raised his voice above the din and challenged Euron to one of the oldest of the Old Ways, the finger dance of Nagga. The finger dance of Nagga was not like other finger dances, this dance required the utmost skill and concentration, for both men were to wield their swords, and would have their hands tied to one another, the aim was to strike at the opponent without allowing them to strike you. The first person to strike blood on their opponent won the duel. Euron had of course with his mocking smile accepted Victarion’s challenge.

So that now Victarion found himself removing his armour and helm- they would only encumber his movement during the dance- and found himself drawing his longsword from its sheath, and as he moved forward, he saw that Euron too had removed his armour and helm from his person, and was simply dressed in plain black clothes and that famed black eye patch of his. They both came to stand on either side of the Damphair, and as the priest recited the old prayer of the Drowned God and tied the cloth that would bind their two hands together, Victarion said a quick prayer to the Drowned God to give him the strength to do what had to be done for the good of the Ironborn and his family.

The roar of the crowd stilled as Victarion and Euron circled round each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Victarion could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, could feel the nervous tension making his arms rigid and tight. Euron feinted to his left, and pulled Victarion with him, bringing Victarion’s sword arm to the left, leaving his right side exposed something that Euron took advantage of as he elbowed Victarion in the stomach, winding him. As Victarion hunched over from the strength of the blow, Euron’s supporters began to bellow, chanting “King Euron! Euron King!” Victarion forced himself up, and just managed to avoid receiving yet another blow to the stomach, though Euron still hit his chest.

They circled round each other, both trying to assess where the other man’s weakness was. Victarion found a little gap in between Euron’s left shoulder and his neck, and lunged forward bringing his sword with him, trying to cut Euron, but because of the band tying them together the lung was awkward and Victarion missed his target by mere inches, though Euron paid him back by giving Victarion a left hook to the face which caused spittle to fly from his mouth. Euron punched Victarion in the jaw, with the butt of his sword, cutting Victarion and causing blood to begin flowing out of the wound. However, as Euron made to move back, Victarion managed to wind his feet so that they caught Euron’s and yanking on the rope that tied them together forced Euron closer toward him, at which point Victarion brought his left knee up and brought up to connect with Euron’s stomach, winding him.

Victarion could hear his own supporters yelling their encouragement, though they were quickly silenced when Euron gave him a quick left hook to the face, which cause even more spittle to fly from his mouth, then quickly followed that with a jab with the butt of his sword that caused the wound on Victarion’s right cheek to open up even more. Euron’s supporters began howling with delight at the sight of their chosen King’s progress. Both men were panting with the exertion at this point, though Victarion was the only one who bore any signs of their struggle.  Something he meant to change.

He yanked on the rope tying them together and quickly brought up his sword as he saw Euron bring up his as well, their swords met in the gap between them, screeching. Sparks could be seen flying between them as both men kept their swords pressed firmly against each other, both using the strength in their arms to try and force the other man to break first. When it became likely that neither man was going to break, Victarion jerked his right hand slightly, causing their swords to move apart, and then quickly brought his right knee up to connect with Euron’s exposed chest, winding him.

Euron replied by head butting Victarion, causing both men to move back and put a strain on the rope, as both men tried to clear their heads of the pain that had engulfed them. They came together again in a clash of steel, still an arm’s width apart, their swords clashed and sang , and sparks flew between them as both men once again tried to force other man to break, or for their sword to fly from their hands. As before the result was the same, neither man was willing to give, though this time, it was Euron and not Victarion who took advantage of the stalemate, first by moving back slowly with his sword still struggling against Victarion’s, then by keeping his right hand on his sword he took his left hand of off the blade and curled his fingers into a fist and then brought the fist swinging up and struck Victarion’s chin twice, causing blood to fly all over the two fighters. Dazed and wounded, Victarion staggered back from his brother, only to feel a sharp stinging pain in his chest.  He glanced down to find that Euron had buried his sword into his chest. He hissed with pain as he felt the sword being withdrawn and felt rather than saw the blood gushing out from the wound.

Euron moved backward, pulling Victarion with him. Staggering, Victarion tried to raise his sword, but found that he was struggling to lift his arms. By the time he had managed to raise his sword up, Euron had already plunged his sword into him twice more, each time opening a wound bigger than the last.  Victarion staggered toward Euron with his sword raised, but before he could so much as swing it at his brother, Euron had ducked his head and plunged his sword in for a fourth time, this time though he kept his sword buried in Victarion’s stomach as he let go of the sword.

Victarion felt the strength leaving his body, and felt his arms begin to shake with the effort of having to keep his sword aloft, trying to relieve the tension building inside him he dropped his sword, and winced at the clattering sound it made. The crowd was deathly silent around them, the shouts from before completely gone now as all the assembled watched with horrified fascination as Victarion Greyjoy sank to his knees, blood pouring out of the wounds his brother had made in his skin. He felt his head bow as Euron moved closer toward him, and as Euron bent down to whisper in his ear Victarion shivered, for what Euron said sent a chill down his body right down to his very core.

“Such a shame brother, that I had to win my crown by becoming a kinslayer. You know if you had been able to put aside your hatred of me, I would have let you rule the Iron Islands once I had taken the Iron Throne. Oh well, you have paid for your foolishness, and allowed me to control all of Westeros with no bindings. Nagga shall reign again in these halls, forever.” With that Euron Crow’s Eye pulled his sword out of his brother’s stomach, cut the rope holding them together and walked backwards all the while keeping his eyes on his brother, and he watched as his brother fell down to the ground dead. Then he shouted, “What is Dead May Never Die! Let the Greenlanders learn the truth of that!”

* * *

**Varys**

King’s Landing had become infinitely more boring since Tywin Lannister and the Tyrells had left the city. For Varys this was mainly because the Old Lion provided more of an interesting player in the game of thrones than his daughter did. True Cersei did have a certain sense of cunning about her, but she seemed completely useless at actually putting that cunning to full use, she had managed to use her powers of persuasion to plan for her brother Tyrion to be thrown in the black cells at some point before her son, King Joffrey’s wedding. Though whether or not that wedding would ever take place now remained to be seen. Since news had come on ravens wings to King’s Landing of the defeat and death of Lord Rowan and his men, Cersei had become distraught and even more paranoid. She had even had several ravens sent out to her father ordering him to come back and defend the city, all of those ravens had gone unanswered much to her chagrin.

Then news had come from Tywin Lannister, write on parchment of a battle between the Lannister- Tyrell forces he commanded and the forces of the riverlords and Valemen commanded by Lord Edmure Tully and Lord Yohn Royce at Rushing Falls. Lord Lannister wrote of how the battle had fluctuated between either of the two sides holding the advantage though of course Lord Lannister had not committed his full strength to the fight, keeping some of his men camped in Sow’s Horn. Cersei had of course ranted and raged about that, questioning her father’s judgement and why would he be so foolish to keep some of his strength back. King Joffrey who had been present in the small council meeting when the raven was read had exclaimed that his grandfather had become a coward in his old age, and that he had been stupid not to commit his full force to the battle at Rushing Falls. Where according to King Joffrey if he had then they could have wiped out the combined Riverlord and Vale forces and left Riverrun ripe for the taken.

Oh how Varys had wanted to laugh then. The boy clearly had no idea of the ramifications that could have had for his reign on the throne. Of course Varys had remained silent, but Lord Tyrion had proceeded to explain to his nephew why Lord Tywin had kept some of his men back in Sow’s Horn. It made more strategic sense, for if the full force was committed then, even if they did manage to completely annihilate the forces under Lords Tully and Royce’s command, they would not be able to do so without suffering heavy casualties themselves, which could leave them open to significant damages should King Jon decide to take flight on his dragon. As it was, Lannister- Tyrell casualties though numerous were not as big as the casualties as the riverlords and the Valemen, though Ser Loras Tyrell had died of his wounds, causing Mace Tyrell all sorts of grief and also making the man insist that once King Jon was dealt with a wedding would be held immediately. When Varys had heard that, he had held back a titter, Mace Tyrell was many things but smart he was not. Even Cersei was not smart enough, disappointingly to realise that the Lannister cause was all but done. Especially with Danaerys Targaryen having allied with King Jon, giving them three dragons and an extra few thousand of men.

Tywin Lannister had retreated back to Sow’s Horn, and then had marched his men alongside Mace Tyrell north to the banks of the Trident where they had set up camp. Varys’ spies in King Jon’s camp reported that the king was finally mustering himself out of the stupor he had been in since Queen Sansa’s kidnapping. According to what his little birds had told him- though he had not told the small council this, not yet at least- King Jon and Danaerys would be mobilising their full strength including their dragons and marching on the Trident, in a few days time. Full out battle promised to ensue, at the end of which Varys was confident Tywin Lannister would be dead, and the Lannister- Tyrell alliance finished, leaving King’s Landing ripe for the taking.

Prince Oberyn’s men had been dispatched to the Vale to bring Queen Sansa safely back to Riverrun a few weeks ago. As of yet there had been no news from them, but then Varys thought that was unlikely given the level of snow and the war ravaging the kingdoms, as well as the fact that the Vale itself was quite a fair distance from the capital. He was confident though that they would succeed in getting Queen Sansa out of Littlefinger’s grasping hands, and back to Riverrun before King Jon marched on King’s Landing.  There was only one slight worry Varys had, and that was that if his sources were correct Queen Sansa was heavily pregnant and this could therefore make her escape much more difficult, something that Littlefinger would undoubtedly try and take advantage of. In fact Varys was convinced Littlefinger would wait until Queen Sansa had given birth, and then he would kill the child in the cradle, and fit himself into her life when she was vulnerable and hurting, and then he would spew all kinds of poison in her ears, that was something Varys could not, would not allow.

Another concern- albeit a little one- that he had was that King Jon did not have a suitable sword to fight the encroaching darkness, for Varys had read the letters that had come from Castle Black asking for help, had been present when Ser Allister Thorne had come and presented the dead man’s hand to the court. Varys had grown up in the east where the red god held sway and so of course had heard all the tales about the darkness and what created it, he had even seen it that one time when his manhood had been taken from him, he was convinced now, the darkness and its creators had taken that from him. He knew that King Jon would need to deal with the problems at the Wall, and so had spoke with Illyrio and had him bring back the sword that had not been seen in Westeros for decades. Blackfyre would return to its rightful owners, and King Jon would become the king who bore the sword and the king of dragons, Westeros’s most powerful and true king.

* * *

**Benjen**

Dark Words usually came on Dark Wings that was the saying the people of Westeros had, Benjen had grown up hearing it. But the news that the ranging party led by the Halfhand had brought back with them had been dire indeed, but it had come not on ravens’ wings but from black brothers, his own sworn brothers. They reported that they had seen the bodies of the dead scouts Benjen had sent out some time ago, their carcasses torn to shreds by the cold and the crows, some had risen up in the night and tried to attack them but had been repelled by the fires, lit by torch or on sticks that they had created. Once or twice White Walkers had been spotted, but they had never come close to the party, but their wights had, attacking and killing many of the Halfhand’s men, those that had escaped- including the Halfhand himself- spoke of how the wights seemed to be getting more and more confident and almost human in the way they attacked, it was as if their attacks were no longer random but were planned well beforehand and carried out with a precision that would have made Lord Rickard proud.

That though was not the direst of the tidings they brought with them. No they reported that they had seen the Weeper and the host he had gathered near the skirling pass. All that had been left of them had been their bodies and the ashes of the fires they had made to ward of the wights and White Walkers. The men had tried to build enough cairns to burn the bodies on before they could rise from the dead, but they had not been able to do so quick enough, for as they were about to set light to the first cairn, the dead on that cairn rose up and began attacking the men. It had been a complete butchery, only Qhorin and a few of his men had managed to escape. And on their way back to Castle Black they had hidden in the haunted forest, only to see mist and fog preventing their way back, and when the mist had eventually cleared they had been greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of thousands of wights and the hundreds of White Walkers marching.... south. Qhorin reported that they were perhaps ten days away from Castle Black when they had seen them, by now they were likely on passed White Tree.

That report had come three days ago, yesterday a raven had come from Eastwatch. White Walkers had been spotted a mile from the wall on that side; their wights had marched down and attacked in the night. The words on the letter had been written in a hurried manner, but read in Cotter Pyke’s gruff tone, it was proving to be utter carnage, relentless attacks at night, hardly any sleep during the day. Shadow Tower reported much the same, and some of the castles along the wall that Benjen had decided to re garrison wrote of Wight attacks at intervals so random that they were on watch all the time. Then sentinels on the Wall at Castle Black had seen the wights and the White Walkers approaching, and chaos had ensued. Benjen had had the men ready for some time now waiting for the sounding of horns, for darkness to come, for then the wights would attack.

He was stood atop the wall watching the sun begin to set in the sky, when he heard the Halfhand say. “The darkness comes, but what will be here when the light returns?”

Benjen was silent for a moment. Then replied. “That is for us to decide my friend.”

The Halfhand laughed. “Aye so it is, but it is also up to those buggers over there,” he pointed to where the white walkers and wights stood shrouded in shadow and mist. “If they attack throughout the night and the next night and all the nights that follow, we will run out of supplies and then who knows what will happen.”

Benjen was about respond when he saw the sun disappear behind the mist and heard from far away on the other side of the Wall the sounding of a horn being blown. He took a deep breath and then in a loud voice said. “Sound the horns, ready the men. We have a battle to win.” This was followed by the sound of men running up and down the steps of the wall and Castle Black preparing them for the upcoming night.  Once all was ready Benjen and the men stood atop the wall waiting, for what he knew not, but from what the letters from Eastwatch and Shadow Tower said, the wights always attacked first, it was simply a case of waiting.

They waited for what seemed like hours, but perhaps were no longer than a few minutes, when a bone chilling howl was unleashed from the wights and the white walkers. It seemed like the hounds of hell were approaching when the whole army of death seemed to take up the howl, and Benjen felt the hairs on the back of his arms stand up with nerves. The howling stopped, and then there was just silence. Silence and then the wights charged at the wall. “Hold,” Benjen shouted, and heard the command repeated down the line of command. The wights drew closer. “Hold,” he shouted. They drew closer; death drew closer on pale wings. “Hold,” They were almost at the gates now, he could hear the clacking of their feet against the snow. “Hold,” They were almost within sight of the charred ashes of Mance Rayder’s host, death ever closer. “Fire!” he yelled. And he watched as hundreds of torches, catapults, dragonglass weapons were lit or fired into the oncoming horde of death, and he saw transfixed as the wights died once more, burnt to smithereens. They kept coming though, wights stepping over the ashes of their fallen comrades, and they too fell to the flame or to the arrows.

This continued for the next few hours until the sun rose, and like magic the White Walkers disappeared. The next night and the night after, and the night after, they came again. In greater numbers, and each night the wights were thrown back and reduced to ash. But never did the White Walkers come, nor did they try and cross the wall themselves, and yet Benjen could not shake of the feeling that something was missing, something important. On the fifth night something changed, the wights did not come as usual, nothing came for hours and then as the mist was clearing and the sun was peeking through, they heard it. The death call, the sound of the White Walkers. Ice Spiders and pale horses, and giants, and legends long forgotten. They all were heard in the roar that echoed through the valley and the wall shook with the force of the roar.

* * *

**Sansa**

She was a reluctant viewer in the great hall as she watched her aunt and Lord Baelish listen to the people of the Vale put forth their worries and problems. She had not wished to come to the session today, she had been feeling ill with sickness, and yet when her maid had told her that Lord Baelish would come find her if she did not come now, Sansa had gotten up and walked as fast as she possibly could to the great hall. She did not want to do anything that would anger either her aunt or Lord Baelish. Sansa had quickly realised that her aunt was deeply in love with Lord Baelish and would never, ever find fault with him, though she did appear to be quite mad, for on more than one  occasion she had mistaken Sansa for her mother, and had began ranting and raving at her, for some long ago crime that her mother had supposedly committed that involved Lord Baelish, and usually it would take Lord Baelish’s presence and his “soothing” words before her aunt would calm down and remember where she was and who she was with.

Of course Lord Baelish would then lead her back to her room, where he would then kiss her and when she kept her lips closed he would frown at her and tell her that that was no way to thank the person who had taken her away from the Lannisters and from the Targaryens. What he did not seem to understand was that she did not like him, she was not grateful for whatever help he had given her, he had taken her away from Jon, from her mother, from her family, and why? So that he could use her however he saw fit, for him to take advantage of her whenever she felt lonely and scared and could no more reject him not if she did not wish to invoke her aunt’s wrath. No, she thought, she could only hold on for so much longer, she would wait until her and Jon’s babe was born and then she would try and flee. She knew Serrax had gone back to Jon at Riverrun, because she had had a dream of it, like she had once been wont to do with Lady, but before Serrax had left she had fled to the godswood one day and attached a little note she had written for Jon, to Serrax and hoped against hope that he would find it and read it, and come for her.

She was brought back to reality though when she heard the herald announce the names of the prisoners who had been caught just the other day trying to break into the Eyrie. They had killed three of the guards and that had caused her aunt to go into a frenzy of mad panic, fearing that the Lannisters were trying to have her or her son killed for her rebellious bannermen and their part in fighting for Jon. Lord Baelish had soothed her, and had promised to deal with them as soon as he was able. So here they were in chains, looking worse for wear, with cuts and bruises aplenty on their faces, their cloths torn and tattered.

Sansa heard her aunt speak then. “You are here as prisoners. You tried to break into the Eyrie, and by trying to, you killed three of our guards. You shall state why you tried to break in, and who sent you.”

Sansa saw the man in the middle of the group, a big muscular man with dark brown hair and browner eyes, stare defiantly at her aunt Lysa, the rest of the group remained silent and Sansa could feel the tension beginning to build up in the room, as she heard many of the viewers begin to mutter amongst themselves. Her aunt Lysa was about to say something more, when Lord Baelish spoke. “The Lady of the Vale has asked you a question. You are prisoners here, for crimes committed against the Vale. It would be in your best interests to answer her questions.”

They were silent again, the muttering in the hall grew louder, more insistent, Sansa shifted uncomfortably in her chair wishing for nothing more than to be back home in Winterfell, with her family. Lord Baelish sighed then and said. “Very well then. Since you refuse to co-operate, we have no choice but to use other methods to get you to speak. Ser Lothor, take these men back to the sky cells.”

Just as the men were near the exit, Sansa heard one of the men- a small man with wiry blonde hair- shout. “Wait! The King sent us! We were sent by the King!”

Lord Baelish shouted over the din, “Stop. What did you say?”

Ser Lothor Brune turned the man around, he was sweating and shaking, his eyes skating around the room nervously until they stopped at Sansa. He said in a more confident tone. “We were sent by his grace King Jon, to take her grace Queen Sansa back to Riverrun. Back to her family.”

The hall erupted into muttering and whispers as each of the people in the hall turned to look at her, Sansa felt herself shrink inside her chair, she had not know Jon would send immediately, she didn’t even know if he had found her note or not.

Lord Baelish laughed then, and said in his most mocking voice, “Lady Sansa is safe here. Away from the war, away from grasping hands. And besides King Jon is dead, he died fighting, so your master must be the Lannisters. Ser Lothor take them away, see them hanged, I will not have such filth desecrating the walls of the Vale.”

Ser Lothor nodded and pulled the man away and back toward the exit, the hall was still muttering around her, the man who had spoke screaming that what he had said was true. Sansa though paid no heed to that, was what Lord Baelish said true? Had her Jon really been killed? Or was it some lie? Surely it had to be a lie, she would have felt it if Jon had been killed, wouldn’t she?

She was so preoccupied with worrying over whether or not what Lord Baelish had said was true or not, that she did not notice the small puddle of water building up at her feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

****

 

 


	24. Death Rides ON Black Wings

**Euron**

_The drums were pounding out a battle beast as the Silence swept forward, her ram cutting through the choppy green waters. The smaller ship ahead was turning, oars slapping at the sea. Roses streamed upon her banners; fore and aft a white rose upon a red escutcheon, atop her mast a golden one on a field as green as grass. The Silence raked her side so hard that half the boarding party lost their feet. Oars snapped and splintered, sweet music to the King’s ears._

_He vaulted over the gunwale, landing on the deck below with his golden cloak billowing behind him. The white roses drew back, as men always did at the sight of Euron Greyjoy armed and armoured, though his face was bared for all to see. They were clutching swords, and spears and axes but nine of every ten wore no armour, and the tenth had only a shirt of sewn scales._

_“Got him!” one man shouted. “He’s alone!”_

_“COME!” he roared back. “Come kill me, if you can.”_

_From all sides the rosy warriors converged, with grey steel in their hands and terror behind their eyes. Their fear was so ripe Euron could taste it. Left and right he laid about, hewing off the first man’s arm at the elbow, cleaving through the shoulder of the second. The third buried his own sword in the soft pine of Euron’s shield. He slammed it into the fool’s face, knocked him off his feet, and slew him when he tried to rise again. As he was struggling to free his sword from the dead man’s rib cage, a spear jabbed him between the shoulder blades. It felt as though someone had slapped him on the back. He spun and slammed his sword down onto the spearman’s head, feeling the impact in his arm as the steel went crunching through helm and hair and skull. The man swayed for half a heartbeat, till the iron king wrenched the steel free and sent his corpse staggering loose-limbed across the deck, looking more drunk than dead._

_By then his men had followed him down onto the deck of the broken longship. His mutes from the Silence hack and slash away at the men of the Reach that stood in their path. They struck a fearsome sight, all from the lands in the East, and all bred for war, for fighting. Euron slew one man after the other as the fools kept running at him, almost as if they thought they could best him- he the King of the Iron Isles, soon to be king of Westeros- He turned to find the next victim for his sword, he spied the other captain across the deck. His white surcoat was spotted with blood and gore, but Euron could make out the arms upon his breast, the white rose within the red escutcheon. The man bore the same device upon his shield, on a white field with a red embattled border. “You!” the iron king called across the carnage. “You of the rose! Be you the lord of Southshield?”_

_The other raised his visor to show a beardless face. “His son and heir. Ser Talbert Serry. And who are you Kraken?”_

_“Your death!” Euron bulled toward him, a sly smile on his face._

_Serry leapt to meet him. His longsword was good castle forged steel, and the young knight made it sing. His first cut was low and Euron deflected it off his own sword. His second caught the Iron king on the shoulder before he got his shield up. Euron answered with a sidearm blow of his sword. Serry’s shield got in the way. Wooden splinters flew and the white rose split lengthwise with a sweet sharp crack. The young knight’s longsword hammered at his thigh, once, twice, thrice, screaming against the steel. This boy is quick, the iron king realized. He smashed his shield in Serry’s face and sent him staggering back against the gunwale. Euron raised his sword and put all his weight behind his cut, to open the boy from neck to groin, but Serry spun away. The sword crashed through the rail, sending splinters flying, and lodged there when he tried to pull it free. The deck moved under his feet, and he stumbled to one knee._

_Ser Talbert cast away his broken shield and slashed down with his longsword. Euron’s own shield had twisted half around when he stumbled. He caught Serry’s blade in an iron fist. Lobstered steel crunched, and a stab of pain made him grunt, yet Euron held on. “I am quick as well boy,” he said slyly as he ripped the sword from the knight’s hand and flung it into the sea._

_Ser Talbert’s eyes went wide. “My sword...”_

_Euron caught the lad about the throat with a bloody fist. “Go and get it,” he said forcing him backwards over the side into the bloodstained waters._

_That won him respite to pull his sword loose. The white roses were falling back before the iron tide. Some tried to flee below decks, as others cried for quarter. Euron could feel warm blood trickling down his fingers beneath the mail and leather and Lobstered plated, but that was nothing. Around the mast a thick knot of foemen fought on, standing shoulder to shoulder in a ring. Euron looked at them and then raised his sword and let loose a battle cry and charged toward them._

_They hacked at him but it was as if they could not touch him.  He swung his sword once, twice, thrice, and the men fell about him, bleeding or dead. He swung and hacked at any other man who tried to come near him with their weapon raised. He kept hacking and slashing till his sword was covered in red and the ship was littered with dead bodies. When no more men seemed like to attack him, he signalled for one of his muted crew men to blow the dragon horn, as it sounded the men on the surrounding ships- Ironborn all of them- cheered loudly and yelled for their king._

_Once their ships had been docked in Lord Hewett’s town, and the castle surrendered Euron and his men stood in the great hall and drank and feasted, celebrating a successful battle. On his lap sat Lord Hewett’s bastard daughter- or was it his lady wife? Or actual daughter?- it made no matter, for Lord Hewett was a prisoner in his own castle now and Euron would sample his daughter bastard or no, and would take with him the loot his men gathered from the castle and the surrounding holdings when they moved on._

_First though he had a speech to give. “My lords, I promised you Westeros when I was made King. This is just the beginning; soon the whole continent will know our might! Soon all shall bow before the Kraken as they did in the days of old.”_

_Shouts of Euron King still echoed in his mind much later once he had finished in the great hall and had finished with Lord Hewett’s bastard daughter. He stood in front of the mirror in Lord Hewett’s own chamber and stared at himself.  The face that looked back at him was scarred and lined, showing his years, and the many battles and pillages he had been on since he was no more than just a lad, now though he was a king, just as that red man in Asshai had foretold, before Euron had carved his guts out on the sword he had taken from the Lannister man, Brightroar the sword was called, lost to the Lannisters centuries ago when one of their kings sailed to Valryia and did not return. He had killed the Lannister man and taken his sword, and then he had sailed the smoking sea and claimed all the wealth that still remained there, including the dragon horn, which rumour spoke was the horn of winter, the horn to bring the wall down and allow the true masters of the night through._

_Euron Greyjoy stood in front of the mirror and removed his eye patch for the first time in years, and found that his eye had gotten the colour of blue, the colour of the wights, the colour of death. It had begun._

* * *

**Bran**

_The days seemed to merge into one another, in the cave of the Children. Bran spent many an hour- or was it the whole day- simply sat on his weirwood throne, seeing visions through the trees, visions of days gone past, and days yet to come. Often after these visions he would open his eyes and note that Lord Brynden, would be looking intently at him, with his one red eye, and oftentimes Bran knew that he would shudder, from the intensity of the man’s gaze if he had been able to move on his throne. Lord Brynden would often ask him what he had seen in the trees and what he thought the visions represented and when they had occurred. More often than not, Bran would speak of the older visions, from the times when he believed the First Men had lived in Winterfell and the North, for those were the visions that he found the most fascinating._

_Then of course there were the visions of his family that he occasionally saw. Visions of his father kneeling before the weirwood tree in the godswood at Winterfell, praying for peace, praying for his family to know no suffering. Visions of a boy and a girl, both of whom seemed like a version of himself and Arya, playing at swords and the girl often besting the boy, much like Arya was wont to do. Then visions of the same girl, a few years older coming to the godswood and praying for a sign, for guidance of what to do, of how she was supposed to marry a man she did not love, a man who would more than likely stray from their marriage bed and sire many bastards. Then later visions of the same girl praying for wisdom, to make her choice, whether to run away with a silver haired prince or to stay and do her duty and marry her brother’s friend. Then Bran saw visions of the girl coming to godswood and marrying her silver prince, in front of the weirwood tree, and he watched as the girl- not yet a woman- got on the silver prince’s horse and rode away. Bran tried to call out to the girl, to warn her- of what he was not sure, but he knew no good could come of the girl disappearing- but all his words were wasted for they only came out as groaning and rustling._

_He never learnt what happened to the girl who was so much like Arya, but he did see more visions. Visions of a young lady kissing a knight who was as big as a giant, kissing him and then the two of them walking back to the castle hand in hand. Visions of a lady – several moons with child- kneeling beside the weirwood tree and praying that her unborn child would give her revenge, would avenge the wrongs done to her and her family.  Visions of a young man sharpening his sword and spear, and plotting how to bring the dragons to their doom, but then how that same young man was brought away from the godswood and had sense talked into him by whom Bran assumed was his older brother, and how the older man told the younger man of how the dragons would never truly conquer the north, not unless they married into it, which would never happen._

_Then there were the visions from ages past, that were not from the godswood in Winterfell but from a place further north. At first Bran did not know the place, but when he spoke of it to Lord Brynden the man- or was it tree? - told him that the scene was from where the Wall now stood. Bran saw a fierce battle and many men and animals being killed, and the burning of wights and the marching of White Walkers, and he saw eternal darkness and how the world seemed to be a living hell. He watched as the First Men and the Children created their legendary pact and worked to remove the darkness and bring the light. He watched as they fought the darkness and as many of them died and were burned or came back as wights. He watched as brothers had to kill their undead brothers, as fathers had to kill their undead sons.  All the while the white walkers grew stronger and grew more and more unbeatable, he watched as they advanced further and further south, until they were almost near Winterfell itself, and then came the dragons. Three of the biggest dragons the world had ever seen came, ridden by three people, one man and two women it seemed. He watched as they burned the wights and white walkers alike and as the children and the first men took strength from the new comers and drove the white walkers back north. Then he watched as the man on the biggest of the three dragons, fought the king of the White Walkers with a glowing sword, a sword that had glowed and had been passed down the generations of the man’s family as the sword of kings till it was given to a bastard and a rebellion was started, he watched as the man fought the king of the White Walkers and he watched as the king of death was felled causing the other white walkers to flee back to where they came._

_Bran watched as darkness left the world and the light came back. He watched as the king of the children and the leader of the first men and the man with the flaming sword signed a pact- a long forgotten pact- and he watched as the Wall was raised to keep the darkness at bay. He watched as the Night’s Watch was created to defend the realm from the darkness- which was still an ever present threat then- He watched as the leader of the first men and the king of the children married, and he watched as his house was founded and he watched as the heir to the Winter Kingdom was born.  Throughout all of this he never once saw what the man with the flaming sword, nor his companions looked like, but then when the man kneeled beside the weirwood tree many years later at Winterfell to say his farewells, Bran saw him, he saw in him the man who looked like his father, who looked like Jon, and then he knew._

* * *

**Cersei**

_News from the front was scarce that much had become apparent. Since they had received news about the Battle of Rushing Falls and Ser Loras Tyrell’s death, no more news had reached them. At least not from her lord father. Varys had told them about the Ironborn raiding the Reach, at that morning’s council session. Cersei had instructed that the information be kept hidden from Lord Mace until the boy Jon Targaryen was done with. They could not afford to have Mace Tyrell and his army distracted or wanting to divide their forces. Mathis Rowan’s death and the defeat of his forces at the battle of the Blue Fork had seriously dented the Iron Throne’s chances in the war, and considering that so far Littlefinger had been unable to convince Lysa Arryn to either call Bronze Yohn Royce and his men back from Harrenhal or to get her to get the rest of her men to march and fight for the crown, it did seem as if as much as she was loath to admit it they would need to rely on Mace Tyrell and his Reachmen to help them stand a chance against the Targaryen boy._

_Though all was not as grim, Varys had reported that in the fighting between the Tarly and Rowan forces, Randyll Tarly had been killed. That was a serious blow to the Targaryen boy, for Tarly was widely acknowledged as a fierce warrior and one of the finest battle commanders in Westeros, his son Dickon had been knighted by the Targaryen boy after they had taken the Rock, but was untested in command and there were apparently rumblings of discontent amongst some of the Tarly soldiers and the lesser lordlings who were considering rejoining their true liege and fighting against the Targaryen boy._

_Furthermore it seemed as if the Tyrell girl had been ensnared by Joffrey and his charms. Not once had she thought to question any of the decisions Cersei had made, though that was likely because her brother had been killed during the battle of Rushing Falls. Yes Lady Margaery did not seem as potent a threat as she had first done, now that her father and brothers were not in the city, in fact her grandmother was likely to be leaving the city soon as well. Cersei could only hope that her father was able to deal effectively with the Targaryen boy and then return home so that they could have the wedding and then be rid of these tiresome Tyrells. Though first of all Cersei wanted to have some fun, she wanted to remove the image of maidenly perfection that seemed to be flittering around Lady Margaery once and for all._

_She had other worries as well though. Ser Gregor Clegane and his men had taken the Stark girl- Sansa that was her name- from Riverrun more than three moons ago, and yet she was still not in King’s Landing, in fact no one knew where she was or where she had disappeared off to. Gregor Clegane himself had told her father that he had delivered her off to Mathis Rowan at the Trident and then had ridden off to battle. Of course because Lord Rowan was dead, they could not very well ask him what had become of the Stark girl, who would think to call herself queen. Even Varys’ little birds had not been able to find out where she was, though as of late she had noticed that Varys’ little birds had not been as effective at gathering key information as they had been in the past, and whether this was because the Stark girl was well and truly hidden or because Varys had another motive at hand she knew not, all she knew was that it had been Varys who had urged King Aerys not to open the gates of Kings Landing to her father during the dying days of Robert’s Rebellion._

_She knew she would have to keep a close eye on Varys as well as her despicable Imp of a brother, since their father had left to fight the Targaryen boy, Tyrion had been named acting hand and of course had been trying to curb her influence and power, but of course since he had been stripped of office after the Battle of the Blackwater and it had been under his watch that the Stark girl had fled King’s Landing in the first place, her little imp of a brother found himself lacking any real credibility or support much to her relief._

_Of course there were problems with Littlefinger still in the Vale. The Iron Bank of Bravos had been relentless in its pursuit of getting the debts that Robert had incurred to it during his reign paid off. And yet Cersei found that for all Littlefinger was an annoying scheming climber, his ability to make coins appear out of thin air and talk his way out of any situation would have been very, very useful now. What with the Iron Bank stepping up the pressure and the constant nagging worry in the back of her head that if they kept delaying payment the Iron Bank would eventually throw its lot in with the Targaryen boy, which would surely be the end of them. But still she found that she had yet another meeting with the representative of the Iron Bank of Bravos._

_Tycho Neris he said his name was, he had a curly black goatee and black beady eyes to go with his olive skin. He had been in Kings Landing for approximately three weeks now, and each time he had requested an audience with Joffrey, Cersei had had Lord Gyles Rosby- the coughing old man- see to him and give him whatever excuses he could to put of the Iron Throne’s immediate debt repayment. But alas today, Lord Gyles would more than likely cough his last and so it had fallen to Cersei to see to the Bravosi whilst Joffrey courted Lady Margaery._

_“Your Grace, I thank you for seeing me at this late hour,” she heard Tycho Neris begin, and Cersei steeled herself for what would more than likely become a long and tedious discussion. Tyrion was sat to her left. “As you know, I have been sent here by the Iron Bank of Bravos to discuss the payment of the debts that the Iron Throne owes us.”_

_Cersei nodded and she heard Tyrion make a sound that might have been a harrumph. Neris went on, “I have been waiting for three weeks to have a discussion with yourself, or with you my Lord Hand about when we can expect these payments, and so far I have been greeted by Lord Rosby who coughs and splutters and promises the gold and payment, but never says when. I have had enough of being so insulted Your Grace my Lord Hand, and I would ask when can we expect the payments, That have been outstanding for some time.”_

_Before Cersei could have the man reprimanded for speaking so rudely to her, Tyrion said. “Once this war is over and we have taken all we can from the Rebels. That is when the Iron Bank can expect its repayment. Until then we will not be able to pay you.”_

_Cersei saw Neris’s face contort and he sounded angry when he spoke next. “When the war is over? That could take another five years!  I have been patient and have endured Lord Rosby’s coughing and spluttering, and for what? For you to tell me that when the war is over, the Iron Bank shall see its money restored to it. My Lord Hand, Your Grace, I must say that I find that to be most unacceptable!”_

_Cersei was angry now how dare this man- this foreigner- tell her what was and was not unacceptable. “I am sorry you think so my Lord of Neris. But as my brother has just so kindly said, we are fighting a war that requires a great deal of money to be spent. Once the rebels have been crushed, then we shall talk about paying you back.”_

_She saw Neris swallow, and then heard him say. “Very well, I beg your leave.”_

_Later that night in her chambers, as she was getting ready for bed, she saw the candles flutter off and heard the wind whistling through her curtains, the next thing she knew a knife was being pressed to her throat and she heard a voice whisper in her ear, “You have played the Iron Bank false, Your Grace. You won’t have the money when the war is over, for you shall not be in power when it is. We expect the payment soon, or else you shall suffer untold casualties. I believe you are aware of what I speak of?”_

_Cersei shuddered and asked, “Is that a threat? I can scream and the knights outside my door will come and kill you in an instant.”_

_She heard the stranger chuckle and heard the laughter in his voice when he said. “Oh no, not a threat. A promise. And your guards are useless to you; if I wanted you dead you would be dead. But it does not serve now atleast. You have a moon to cough up the money or the prophecy shall come true.”_

* * *

**Robb**

They were marching from Riverrun. Finally after months of being inactive, they were marching. Not to King’s Landing, not yet at least for they still had one last battle to fight before the capital could be theirs for the taking. Their scouts had reported that the Lannister-Tyrell host was camped on the banks of the Trident; much like Lord Rowan’s host had been some moons ago. Word was that Lord Tywin and Lord Mace were divided over what sort of strategy to go for, Lord Tywin it seemed was all for the cautious approach, he wanted to send parties out to do some raiding and pillaging to draw them out and then attack them from both the  left and right side. Mace Tyrell it seemed simply wished to go for a full on assault, he did not care how they did it, according to the reports Robb had heard, he simply wished to be done with the fighting in the Riverlands so that he could concentrate on dealing with the Ironborn who were raiding the Reach.

All this news had come from their scouts and spies within the Lannister army. Of course after Sansa’s kidnapping and subsequent presence in the Vale, Jon had taken the extra precaution to lay a false sense of plans so that any spies within their army who reported back to the Lannisters would give back false information. The real plan was only know to a few of Jon’s most trusted advisors, which included Robb, Ser Barristan, Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, Lord Tarly- Dickon Tarly, for his father had died fighting Lord Rowan-, Lord Royce,  Danaerys Targaryen and Lords Blackwood and Bracken. Robb’s uncle Edmure had arrived back in Riverrun some days ago, not riding a horse but in a carriage. His wounds had been very severe and he was lucky to be alive and breathing. When they had left Riverrun, his uncle had been beginning sit up again, though he still would not be ready to fight in the battle for King’s Landing.

Due to the battle of Rushing Falls, many of the Riverlords had either died or had been severly injured, their forces deeply depleted, and as such it was now a case that whatever forces had been brought with Lord Royce back to Riverrun were left to guard it should the battle not go as planned. The rest of the men, this included the northmen, the Valemen, the Reachmen under Lord Dickon and the Dornishmen under Lord Yronwood were to march for the Trident. After much discussion, it had been decided that Robb would lead the Vanguard which would comprise of the whole of the northern host, and some of the reachmen. Lord Royce would lead the left that would comprise of the Valemen and the rest of the reachmen, and then Lord Yronwood would lead the right which would be comprised entirely of Dornishmen. They would all attack in a pincer sort of formation aiming to cut off any attempts at escape that the Lannister- Tyrell forces might try and make.  The reserve would be made up of Jon, Danaerys and their three dragons, one of which was still rider less though Danaerys assured them that she would be able to control both of her dragons.

Since that day at Maidenpool when she had kissed him, Robb had tried to avoid spending too much time in Danaerys company, and had been largely successful though he caught her sometimes looking at him like he was a piece of meat, and it unnerved him deeply, for he was married and Roslin was expecting their first child. It did not help that Jeyne Westerling constantly seemed to be following him around constantly trying to speak with him, Theon’s teasing that she was in love with him did seem to hold more and more merit by the day. Though of course nothing could or would come of it, for though Robb might like her, he could not do anything with her, for he was married and her brother had had a part in Sansa’s kidnapping.

He shook his head and brought his mind back to the coming battle, as he heard the Greatjon blow his war horn, which was answered by a howl from Greywind. He drew Ice from its sheath, and held aloft, high in the air, and before giving the command to charge he lifted the visor of his helm and shouted for his men to hear. “Men of the north, men of the Reach. Today we fight one last battle. One last time to rid the world of the Lannisters and their traitorous nature.  Today we fight and today is the day singers will sing of. Today is the day, we shall show them that though they may be rich, though they may pay their debts. The North Remembers, Westeros Remembers. Men, today we fight and today we shall win.” There was an answering bellow from the men that set the hairs on the back of his arm to stand on end, before he pulled his visor down, Robb shouted “Men of Westeros, CHARGE!”

And he spurred his horse on and heard Greywind let loose a terrifying howl, Robb raised his sword and brought it swinging down on the first man that he saw bearing the enemy colours. His sword cleaved the man into from the neck down. Next he swung, hacked and sliced and men bearing the Lion of Casterly Rock and as the first man lost his arm, the second lost his hand and the third lost his life. He saw through Greywind’s eyes as his wolf tore through the throat of one, two, three, four, five men. Then he brought himself back and continued hacking and slashing his way through the mass of the enemy.

Ice was stained red with the blood of many foes, when he came across a big brute of a man. Bearing the dog of House Clegane, the man could only be the Mountain that Rides, Ser Gregor Clegane. Robb felt anger boil inside of him as he took sight of the man, who was riding hard towards him. This was the man who had taken Sansa from Riverrun, from him, form Jon from their family and Robb would make him pay. He spurred his horse on and met Se Gregor in a clash of steel. Sparks flew off their swords, and as they both pulled away, he heard Clegane’s horse whicker nervously.  Greywind growled low beside him. He moved his sword and swung hard and fast, Clegane brought his sword up in time and blocked his stroke, Robb heard the screeching of steel on steel. Sparks flew once more.

They broke apart, and then Clegane swung wildly at Robb, just missing knocking his helm off, as Robb managed to duck at the last moment. Robb kept his head ducked as Clegane brought his sword back round, and then as the man made to swing again Robb thrust Ice out in quick successive jabs and managed to pierce the man’s armour, causing the brute to grunt and for blood to begin pouring out of the wound. Clegane retaliated by shoving his shield into Robb’s face denting his helm and momentarily making him blind to what his foe was doing. Clegane took advantage of this by swinging his sword down in an arc so that it connected with Robb’s armour and dented it from the shoulder down to the very end near his leg. Blood began pouring out of the wound and Robb groaned with the pain of it.

He managed to use his shield to shove Clegane’s own shield off.  Then he raised Ice in time to block yet another of Clegane’s swings, as they broke apart, Robb saw a gap between Clegane’s shoulder and neck. He thrust his shield into Clegane face hoping to blind the man for a moment, and as Clegane brought his hands up try and force the shield away Robb hacked the head of Clegane’s horse of, causing the horse to fall and just before it hit the ground Robb pulled his shield back. Clegane got up off of his dead horse and moved toward Robb, swinging his sword wildly he killed Robb’s horse with three big swings, Robb jumped off of his horse before it fell and was instantly besieged by Clegane swinging at him like a madman. He just managed to block a few of the man’s swings, a few connected and further dented his armour, though he too managed to get a few hits onto the man’s body, causing the man to wound further.

Then just as Clegane and Robb’s swords were locked in yet another fierce fight, Greywind jumped from nowhere and wrapped his jaws around the man’s left leg, causing Clegane to lean over to left, as he tried to get Greywind off of him. Robb saw the opening and took his sword off of Clegane’s and then threw his shield at Clegane and as the man tried to move away from it, Greywind tightened his hold of the man’s leg, causing the brute to scream with pain and to lean even further to the left exposing the gap in his armour. Robb rushed forward and with three quick thrusts had buried Ice inside of Gregor Clegane’s neck. The man looked at Robb for a moment, before he began falling, blood pouring out of all the wounds in his body, Greywind let go of the man’s leg and moved back beside Robb, as the man hit the ground Robb could have sworn the ground shook.

Battle still raged on beside him, but Robb found that he could not move, was unable to. He just kept standing there in front of Gregor Clegane’s body, feeling numb. Eventually he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see his squire- which was strange considering he was older than him- Olyvar there covered in blood and holding a horse. Robb looked at Olyvar questioningly, and hear him say, “You’re bleeding quite badly my lord.” Robb looked down at the wound the Mountain had given him, it was true, blood was flowing quite quickly out of the wound and he was beginning to feel weak in the head and knees. Olyvar helped him up on the horse and then mounted his own.

A they rode Robb lifted his visor and asked, “What news of the rest of the battle how does it go?”

Though he could not see Olyvar’s face, he could hear the grimace in his tone as he said. “Badly my lord. Mace Tyrell broke the right, Lord Yronwood is dead, slain by Ser Garlan. Lord Royce was pushing hard at their left flank but just as he was about to break it, men from the Vale came and attacked his host from the rear.”

Robb was shocked. “His own men turned against him?”

Olyvar shook his head. “No my lord. These were new Valemen led by Lyn Corbray. It appears Lady Arryn has finally chosen a side. Lord Royce lost the left once he had to engage in fighting at the rear.”

Robb felt dread beginning to pull at him, they were losing this battle, this could go very badly. “What of us, what of the centre how are we doing?”

“Good, in comparison,” Olyvar said. “Clegane was leading their Vanguard my lord. With him dead we managed to overpower them. That just leaves Lord Tywin and the reserve.”

Robb could have groaned, but at that moment, he heard a deep rumbling coming from up ahead. He stopped his horse and Olyvar stopped his own as well. Robb turned to look at him. “What was that?” Olyvar asked. Robb had a sneaking suspicion that perhaps their plan B was coming to fruition now, rather than later.

Olyvar got his answer as soon the deep rumbling noise they had heard earlier was answered by three terrifying and primal roars, and up in the sky appeared three big dark shapes. The dragons. Robb could see Jon riding Serrax, the biggest of the three, Danaerys riding Rhaegal, and Viserion the as of yet riderless dragon.  “We had best get a move on.” Robb said and Olyvar nodded and they spurred their horses on back to the edges of the battle, but not before they saw the dragons roar and see the enemy bathed in fire. The screams and yells of the dying enemy men could be heard for miles. Banners were burnt, the sight would imprint itself into Robb’s memory and would haunt him for many years to come.

Death had come for the Lannisters on dragon’s wings. A Field of Fire had been created, and all who were foes would burn, and were burning. The Targaryens had come to claim what was theirs with fire and blood.

****

 

 

 

 


	25. This Is My Hell

**Varys**

King’s Landing was alight with activity. The gold cloaks were preparing the city for another possible siege, and more than likely the storming of the city, except this time the army storming the city would more than likely win. For the Lannisters had no army except the gold cloaks and the citizens of King’s Landing to defend themselves, though of course Cersei Lannister and King Joffrey had not yet been made aware of what had happened on the Trident. For Lord Tyrion had not yet seen fit to tell them, though he had of course summoned Varys the very instant he had been given the letter by his squire. Oh yes Varys remembered Lord Tyrion’s expression well, it was one of fear and almost resigned doom.

_Varys pattered into Lord Tyrion’s chambers, to find Shae tidying the room. Varys nodded his head in greeting and got a wan smile in return. He knew of course that Shae had become more than Lord Lannister’s whore, she had become his lady love, a tragic love story if ever Varys had been witness to one. He turned to face Lord Tyrion who was sat on a hard wooden chair fiddling with a piece of paper. “You called and I have come. To what did you wish to speak to me of, Lord Tyrion?” Varys asked genuinely curious._

_Tyrion stopped fiddling with the piece of paper set it down on the table and then let out an audible sigh. “News has come from the Trident, news about the battle.”_

_Varys leaned forward interested now, his little birds had not reported to him about any news. “Oh? And what does this news say? Is it good or bad?”_

_Tyrion picked up the paper and fiddled with it again then said “That depends.”_

_Varys feigned a look of puzzlement. “Depends My Lord? On what?”_

_Tyrion looked at him then, and his mismatched eyes seemed to be weighing Varys up, Varys kept his face blank. “It depends Lord Varys, on where your allegiances lie.”_

_Varys feigned an insulted look and said “My Lord, I feel gravely insulted. My allegiance has always been and always will be to the Iron Throne and to the King.”_

_Tyrion sighed once more and said, “Yes that’s just what I thought you would say. Very well then I suppose there is no point in delaying it. Here read this.” Tyrion handed him the piece of paper that he had been fiddling with when Varys had entered the room._

_Varys read the letter once, then twice just to make sure he had not misread it. He had to fight very hard to keep a smile from breaking out onto his face. After sixteen years, all his hard work had finally paid off. Inside he was jumping for joy, but externally he kept his face blank and expressionless and said. “This is indeed grievous news my lord. Do their graces know about this letter?”_

_Lord Tyrion snorted and said. “No, not yet. I am not such a fool as to believe that telling them the contents of this letter now, whilst the city still has its defences scattered is such a good idea. No I called you to bargain with you.”_

_Now this was something Varys had to admit, he hadn’t seen coming. The surprise in his voice was genuine when he asked. “Bargain with me? My Lord why on earth would you wish to bargain with me?”_

_Lord Tyrion turned his mismatched eyes onto Varys and gave him a piercing look, then sighed once more. “I know that when my father was hammering on the gates of King’s Landing, before the sack, you were the one who advised King Aerys not to open the gates to him. And I know that Pycelle was the one who told Aerys to open the gates, and I know what that led to.”_

_Varys remained silent, waiting for Lord Tyrion to get to the point of the matter. “I know that you and Prince Oberyn have been meeting quite frequently since he came to the city. I also know that Prince Oberyn and the Dornish have been hungering for vengeance and revenge against my father and my family since Princess Elia and her children’s bodies were presented to Robert as he sat the Iron Throne after the Sack.”_

_Varys continued to remain silent, though he could guess where Lord Tyrion was heading with this. Sure enough Lord Tyrion did eventually say what Varys had expected him to say. “I know King Jon and his men, will be riding hard, flying hard even to the city. I know that Cersei will want to defend the city, if it comes to battle; we will lose, and will be slaughtered. I want to be spared. I have my uses and I quite fancy living.”_

_Lord Varys remained silent for a minute more before saying, “I shall see what I can do.” He then left the room and made his way back to his chambers to begin preparing for King Jon’s entrance to the city._

That had been two days ago, since then Lord Tyrion had begun preparing the defence of the city. He had begun putting more and more patrols on the city walls, had increased the number of gold cloaks in the city all of this had been done without alerting Cersei or Joffrey to what was happening. Varys had helped in that, diverting the Queen Regent and King’s attention to other matters such as the Vale, or the marriage between Joffrey and Margaery that was no longer on the cards.

Varys heard a knock on his door, and shuffled to open it, and found him looking at Podrick Payne, Lord Tyrion’s squire. Payne merely said, “It is time, my lord.” Varys nodded and then followed Podrick out of his room and walked on slippered feet to the small council chamber, he knew what this meeting would be about. And sure enough when he entered the chamber, he found Lord Tyrion, Grand Maester Pycelle, Queen Cersei, Aurane Waters and King Joffrey already seated. Varys bowed before the king and queen regent and then took his seat.

Varys heard Lord Tyrion take a deep breath and then begin to speak. “I have called this meeting of the small council to tell you some urgent news that has just reached me.”

Varys heard Cersei snort, and King Joffrey sigh with boredom. Tyrion ploughed on. “I received a raven from the Trident, this morning bearing news of how the battle there went.”

That had its intended effect, Cersei, Pycelle, Waters and Joffrey all leaned forward eager to hear more. Tyrion stayed silent for a long moment until Cersei eventually snapped. “Well imp, what news have you received then?”

Varys saw Tyrion take a deep swig of his wine, swallow and then begin to speak. “The letter is write in the hand of Ser Garlan Tyrell. He writes that the combined royalist army met the rebel army of Jon Targaryen in the field at the Trident. The host commanded by his father broke Lord Yronwood and the Dornish host on the right, killing Lord Yronwood.  He also writes that Lord Royce was about to break our left when he was attacked at the rear, by Valemen.”

“His own men betrayed him?” Joffrey asked incredulous.

Tyrion shook his head. “No these were new Valemen led by Ser Lyn Corbray, under the instruction of Lord Baelish. Once he was attacked from the rear, Lord Royce lost the battle against the left. Allowing Ser Kevan to resume a fierce attack. Lord Royce’s host was broken by the attack on both sides. Lord Royce died as did his son Albar.”

Varys could feel the excitement beginning to build up in the room, he saw Cersei’s chest rising and falling could hear Pycelle’s breathing becoming faster, saw a mad glint of victory in Joffrey’s eyes. They all thought that they had won this war; they did not even think to question that it was Ser Garlan and not Lord Tywin himself who had written this news down. Oh disappointed they would be when Tyrion continued.

Varys heard Joffrey ask, “And what of the centre, what happened there did we crush them there as well?”

Varys had to hide his smile behind his hand, the boy was a fool.

Lord Tyrion took another deep drink of his wine and then continued and said. “Ser Gregor led the vanguard, and went up against the rebels vanguard commanded by Lord Stark. Lord Stark was grievously wounded during the fighting, and many of his men were killed.” Tyrion paused and Varys could see the joy beginning to build up around the room, they thought they had won. Lord Tyrion continued. “Though he was injured very grievously, Lord Stark managed to kill the Mountain, and our vanguard was broken and beaten.” Varys felt the temperature in the room drop several notches as Lord Tyrion spoke of the mountain’s death, but he could not wait to see what the reaction when Lord Tyrion told them the rest of the news.

Pycelle spoke then. “So, the boy killed the mountain and impressive feat but still he was surrounded and the false king what did he do?”

Varys saw Lord Tyrion turn his mismatched eyes onto Pycelle, and heard the cold in his voice as he spoke. “He unleashed his dragons.”

Silence greeted this pronouncement, only to be broken by Cersei. “What do you mean?”

Tyrion sighed once more and Varys heard the fear begin to creep into his voice when he said the next few words. “I mean dearest sister that Jon Targaryen and his aunt Danaerys, rode their dragons into battle when it seemed that they would lose. They rode their dragons – all three- into battle and burnt our men, killing thousands of them. Including Lord Mace, our uncle Ser Kevan and our lord father Lord Tywin.”

Complete silence greeted this pronouncement. Varys had to keep his hand at his mouth to prevent a titter from escaping it. Then Joffrey spoke, and his voice was laced with fear. “You lie, uncle. You Lie!”

Varys saw Tyrion turn his mismatched eyes onto the boy, and heard him say in a tone of ice. “I do not lie, Your Grace. Ser Garlan wrote the words, and the letter bears the signature of King Jon, and his men. Here look at it if you do not believe me.” Varys saw Tyrion throw the letter across the table to where King Joffrey and his mother picked it up and began to read it.  Once they had finished, Cersei put the letter on the table and had a look of absolute terror on her face. King Joffrey looked ready to bolt.

Cersei eventually spoke. “What do you plan to do about this Imp?”

Tyrion feigned a look of surprise. “Me? But sweet sister surely it should be his grace, mine own nephew who leads the planning of the defence of the city.”

Joffrey was about to reply, when Cersei snapped back. “Our Lord Father named you hand whilst he was away fighting. And now he is dead. What do you plan to do?”

Varys heard Tyrion sigh and then heard him speak in a resigned tone. “I will have to increase the number of gold cloaks, and the number of patrols and sentinels on the walls of the city will have to increase. No one can leave or enter the city now. We shall have to be on high alert. His grace, yourself and Tommem will have extra protection as much of it as possible. It does not help that our Lord Father took Ser Balon and Ser Meryn with him when he left. With Ser Loras dead and Ser Arys in Dorne with Myrcella, we only have Ser Boros and Ser Osmund left in the city.”

Varys could tell that what Tyrion said had not pleased Cersei nor Joffrey. Cersei had a mad glint in her eyes when she said. “That is all you plan to do brother? I am sorry but I do not think that, is enough.”

Tyrion sighed in irritation and asked. “Then what do you suggest, sweet sister?”

Varys could not believe the next few words that came out of Cersei’s mouth. “There is still wildfire buried around the city from the Battle of Blackwater and from the days of Mad King Aerys. We use that to keep the Targaryen boy and his men out of the city.”

Varys could tell the other members of the small council were shocked by what Cersei had said. Lord Tyrion sounded deeply disturbed when he spoke next. “You must be joking! Use wildfire, the most unpredictable substance known to man, to defend a city from dragons? Are you quite sure you are not mad Cersei?”

“Well it will keep the Targaryen boy from using his dragons. We have no other options left brother; this city cannot fall into the hands of the rebels. It cannot.”

That was when King Joffrey spoke, and he had a mad glint in his eyes, that reminded Varys eerily of Aerys during the rebellion. “Mother is right. The rebels want my city, my crown? I say let them come. We shall burn them. Burn them all.”

* * *

**Jon**

He could still hear the screaming of the men below him as they burnt to death. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the charred remains of what had been the battlefield, the remains of what had once been soldiers, men and boys, husbands, fathers, sons, brothers. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the man who had been so badly burnt by the dragonfire, the man had lost his arms, and his legs were nothing more than charred black things, and yet he was still alive, screaming in pain, writhing trying to get out of his armour, which had become a black crust around him, encasing him in and suffocating him. Jon had ended the man’s suffering with one quick slit of his throat, Blackfyre for the first time in the battle getting a taste of blood. Jon was haunted by the sight of death and destruction that the dragons- that he- had caused. It mattered not that they had won, that the dragons had needed to be used otherwise they would have been smashed by the left, right, and reserve of the royalist army. It didn’t matter, because all Jon could hear, see or think of when he was awake or asleep was the dying men and the charred ruins that had been left behind, once the fire had been extinguished.

The men did not seem to be too affected by what many had begun calling the second Field of Fire, in fact they seemed more relieved than anything that the dragons had been put to use, for it had saved many of their lives, Jon admitted that. It also seemed to have made the men become even more subservient to him and to Danaerys. They seemed more willing to listen to whatever he had to say, and whilst he found the change rather discomfiting, Danaerys seemed to be taking it all in her stride. Lapping up the attention and the praise and acting as if this was all natural, like she had been born into it. Jon supposed she had, after all she was more Targaryen then he was- than he could ever hope to be- she had been born on Dragonstone during the fiercest storm to ever grip Westeros in the dying days of Robert’s Rebellion. Looking at her now, as she walked amongst the men and talked to them and shared jokes, bread and mead with them, Ser Jorah her constant shadow, Jon could understand why many had followed from the Red Waste, she had a sort of charisma about her, that drew you to her. But Jon could not forget that as peaceful and serene she seemed now, when she had been atop her dragon and controlling her second dragon, she had looked half crazed, her violet eyes seemingly glowing with battle lust, or some sort of lust as the flames from their dragons had burnt their enemies to ash.

Looking at Danaerys now, Jon wanted nothing more than to give her the Throne and let her deal with the stresses of running Westeros, and yet he could not do that. She had been set on burning all of the royalist men, and had even gone so far in her battle lust to suggest burning some of their own men as punishment for fleeing from the battle. It had taken all of Jon’s powers of persuasion to convince her against doing that, they needed their men, they could not afford to do anything that could sway them, and besides he could not truly blame the men who had fled the battle nor those who had fought for the enemy, they were only doing what they thought was right. When the battle was over and the remenants of the royalist army had surrendered, Jon and Danaerys had landed and then proceeded to argue over what needed to be done with those who had surrendered. Danaerys still riding high from her battle lust, wanted to have their prisoners burnt, by dragonfire, Melisandre even agreed with her as did Ser Jorah, and they all argued that it would make them seem stronger and not willing to accept traitors. Jon and his men had argued stringently against doing such a thing. He was not Aerys Targaryen to burn those men who had fought honourably and valiantly for a cause, he would not do that nor would he allow it to be suggested ever again. After Danaerys had agreed, rather reluctantly to that, they had then brought forward the prisoners to decide what needed to be done with them.  Ser Garlan Tyrell had been the first prisoner to be brought forward. Jon had questioned him thoroughly asking him various questions and then when he was satisfied that Ser Garlan had answered all the questions posed to him truthfully, Jon had thought for a long time over what was to be done with him. Ser Garlan was a fierce fighter and had fought valiantly during the battle, and was also married, his wife pregnant with their first child, Jon was still haunted by what he had seen on the battlefield and as a result had decided to pardon Ser Garlan, but had decided to strip Brightwater Keep from his possession. The next prisoner of note had been, Denys Redwyne, the boy’s uncle, father and cousins had been killed during the battle and as such along with his cousin Desmera he was the heir to the Arbor.  Jon decided that the boy would be held a hostage to the Iron Throne, once King’s Landing fell, his fate to be decided at a later date. House Rowan had lost all of their male heirs during the battle, Lord Rowan himself having died during the battle of the Blue Fork. All that was left of the house were daughters, their fate Jon decided would be to marry men who had been loyal to him and had served him ably. The Lannister forces had been destroyed during the battle, so there were no prisoners from their side.

Of course not all had gone completely peachy for Jon and his men either, they had suffered heavy losses on the right, Lord Yronwood and most of his men had been killed by the Tyrells and their men. The Valemen had been decimated by an attack from the rear and the front, attacked by their fellow Valemen led by Lyn Corbray and Lannister men led by Ser Kevan. Losses had been numerous, and none of the Valemen led by Lyn Corbray had really survived long enough for Jon to question them about what Lord Baelish wanted with Sansa, much to his frustration. Robb had been badly injured fighting the mountain and as such was in no fit state to march with the men to King’s Landing, which was why Jon had reluctantly agreed to lead the remenants of his host to King’s Landing to take the city. He had really only wanted to fly to the Vale to get his wife back, he had wanted Robb or perhaps Danaerys to lead the march on King’s Landing but had been quickly squashed down and told that as King he had to lead the march on King’s Landing if he wanted the small folk to rally to his cause. So reluctantly he had agreed, he only prayed that he would not be too late to safe Sansa from whatever it was Lord Baelish had taken her for.

* * *

**Edmure**

His body was still sore from the numerous wounds that he had picked up during the Battle of Rushing Falls. He was slowly recovering though, enough so that Maester Vyman had agreed to allow him out for a few walks during the day. He was relieved, he had been getting so frustratingly bored staying in bed all the time. He wanted to go out and do things, but of course he could not walk for too long or his whole body would begin to ache. Thankfully though he had been able to walk into the courtyard when his wife had arrived from the Twins a month ago. She was heavy with child when she entered but, she still looked as beautiful as she had on the day she had wed. Edmure had written to Lord Walder and asked that his wife come down from the Twins, he thought it safe enough for her to come down, Lord Rowan and his men had been defeated, Lord Tywin had retreated back to Sow’s Horn. There was no immediate danger to her safety that he could foretell, and besides the army was about to head on out again to deal with Lord Lannister and the Tyrells once and for all, and Edmure knew that he would become bored and frustrated if he did not have anything to do to take his mind off the fact that he would not be able to go out there and fight alongside them.  For as much as he loved Cat, and her little girl and boy, he knew that he needed to get to know his wife a little bit better if they were to lead the Riverlands through the winter and help them recover from the war that had ravaged their lands, and their people.

Furthermore, the riverlords had all either been killed or injured during the battle of Rushing Falls, their men either killed or taken prisoner, so they would not be playing a part in the battle with the Lannisters. As such though when his wife had come to Riverrun, Edmure thought that he had made the right decision, though she had been shy at first, she had eventually opened up to him and showed that she was bright and funny, something that he did find quite surprising for one of Walder Frey’s daughters. Of course, he supposed it helped that she was pregnant with his child, as that gave them something to talk about when other topics became to wearisome.  She had given birth to a baby girl, whom they had named Minisa after Edmure’s mother a week ago, and that had only served to bring them closer. Edmure was in awe of his daughter, she was just the smallest bundle of joy he had ever seen, and every little thing she did, made him smile with pride. He swore to himself and to his wife that their daughter would never, ever know the hardships that had plagued her parents, and she would never be sold off like cattle to the highest bidder, no she would always know that she was loved and valued.

Then the raven had come from the Trident. Detailing King Jon’s victory and the complete annihilation of the Lannister- Tyrell forces, Edmure had decided then when he had received the raven to tell the Kingslayer. First of all though he had told his wife, Cat and her children, and the people of Riverrun. There had been many days of celebration as their victory and the taking of King’s Landing seemed imminent. After that Edmure had finally managed to pull himself away from the festivities to go and speak to the Kingslayer.

As he stood in front of the Kingslayer’s cell, he waited for the man to wake up and look at him. Edmure found it to be a rather funny twist of fate, the mighty Jamie Lannister now missing one hand and looking like a tramp, was being held prisoner in Riverrun’s dungeons for the second time during this war, except this time there was no chance that the man would escape, with no one there to try and free him.

As the Kingslayer opened his eyes and looked up at him, Edmure had to repress the urge to throttle the man who had been the cause of so much damage to his home and to his family.

“Ah if it isn’t Lord Tully, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company my lord?” the Kingslayer asked.

Edmure merely smiled and said “I’ve come to let you know that you won’t be going anywhere for a long time Kingslayer. Your father is dead, your uncle is dead, your sister has thoroughly alienated any potential allies she may have had in the south, and your bastard son’s reign as king is drawing closer to an end. The Lannister- Tyrell army was completely decimated at the Trident by King Jon and his dragons.”

Edmure was happy to note that for once it seemed the Kingslayer had nothing witty to say as a retort to what he had just said and in fact appeared to be rather speechless. Edmure gloated now and said “What has a cat, or should I say trout got your tongue. No Kingslayer you won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, and there’s no more wild dogs to raid my lands or destroy my people’s homes, you are a dead man walking Kingslayer. So you see despite your father doing everything he could to destroy the Riverlands, he failed, you failed. House Lannister is doomed Kingslayer and all because you couldn’t keep your cock away from your sister’s cunt.” And with that Edmure spat at the Kingslayer and walked away from his cell and back into the main part of the castle.

* * *

**Littlefinger**

His plans had failed, at least in the sense that his ploy to have Lyn Corbray lead the rest of the Vale’s forces and fight for the Lannisters at the Trident had not gone as he had planned. True enough, Corbray and his men had broken Jon Targaryen’s left flank, with aid from Kevan Lannister, and that had severly dented the boy’s numbers. Lord Yronwood and his men had been destroyed by the Tyrells, and Robb Stark had been injured fighting the Mountain, it seemed like the Targaryen boy would finally be beaten, and then he had unleashed his blasted dragons. His sources amongst the boy’s army, reported that the boy and his aunt had taken flight on their dragons, with one of the three remaining riderless, and had proceeded to burn their way through the Lannister-Tyrell host, killing thousands of men and winning the battle for the Targaryens.

His sources also reported that the Targaryen boy had argued with his aunt once the battle had finished over what to do with the prisoners they had taken. It seemed Danaerys Targaryen was made of sterner stuff than her nephew. Though that did not surprise him, for the boy had been raised by Eddard Stark, and though Eddard Stark may have been a capable warrior he was also an honourable man, and honourable men did not kill prisoners for no rhyme and reason. That had been Stark’s downfall, and Littlefinger was determined that it was also be the Targaryen boy’s downfall as well. All he needed to do was to ensure that any potential discord that was there between aunt and nephew, continued to grow, until neither could stand the sight of the other, then he would play his guards.

Danaerys Targaryen was still new to Westeros and how its politics worked. Littlefinger knew that he could win her allegiance if he were to deal with her nephew and to pave the way for her to take sole control of the Iron Throne. He knew that he could whisper things into her ear that she would listen to, because from what his sources said the girl was still relatively naive, and was already beginning to show signs of her family’s traditional quirks. She was, his sources said naturally suspicious of the men her nephew fought alongside, considering them traitors and oath breakers. He knew that if there was enough discord sown between nephew and aunt he could play on her naturally suspicious nature and wreak havoc, wreak chaos.

And what would he want in return? Why the only thing that should have been his from the very beginning. Cat and Sansa. He already had Sansa here in the Vale, his little lie when the Dornishmen had come that her husband had died, had sent her into a panic, a mournful sorrow, that he was slowly prying her out of. He was determined to play the hero to her, keep her safe from those who would do her harm- including her family- and then when the moment was right use her to claim Winterfell, and then marry her to Harry the heir and claim the Vale, for he was determined to make sure that his wife and her son did not live long past this year.  Then once Robb Stark and Rickon Stark and Jon Targaryen had been properly dealt with, he would write to Cat and tell her he had rescued her daughter from the Lannisters, and then he would play on her gratefulness and marry Catelyn.

Only one thing had thrown a slight spanner in his plans. After the Dornishmen had been led away, Sansa had given birth... to twins, a boy and a girl. The girl was no problem, she could be easily sold off to a family looking to court favour with the Lord Protector of the Vale, the boy though, if it became common knowledge that Sansa had had Jon Targaryen‘s son then the man’s allies would continue to fight to put the boy on the throne, and then Danaerys would not get the throne and his plans would not work. No the boy had to die, and die he would. That was why he was standing in front of the babe’s cradle with a pillow in hand waiting for his breathing to slow and for the right moment. It was all for Cat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

****


	26. Diary Of A Madman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heaten up in WESTEROS. Darkness is descending.

**Littlefinger**

The room was quiet, the hallway was quiet, and no one would be approaching this room or even this side of the castle for some time. It would be the easiest thing to simply place the pillow on top of the brat’s face and smother the life out of him, the baby boy who looked so much like Eddard Stark, like the Targaryen boy according to Sansa, like Brandon. Yes the boy had to die if his plans were to come to fruition, and Littlefinger would be the man to do it. He had not been able to kill Brandon Stark, that time so many years ago at Riverrun- had nearly died himself- but this time he would get his revenge on the Starks and this time, he would be the one to do the deed.

He advanced slowly towards the boy’s crib, pillow in hand, breathing slowly, calmly. It was important he breathe normally, so that he didn’t give away his attentions to anybody who might be happening to pass by, so that he did not wake the baby. This had to go perfectly; it would be the perfect crime. The first step on his way to complete control, he already had Sansa, he would remove Robb Stark, and then he would take Catelyn, he would have it all.  He slowly lifted his arms up in the air, lifting the pillow with him, he looked at the baby’s face, so like Brandon Stark, so like Eddard Stark, he felt the hatred begin to bloom in his stomach as it always did when he thought about the Starks- the baby was the symbol of all that had been taken from him, what should rightfully have always been his- then he looked at the girl, the boy’s twin, who looked so much like Sansa, like Cat, that he felt his insides hurt, that should have been his granddaughter he was looking at not Eddard Stark’s. He moved closer toward the boy’s crib, and just as he was about to bring the pillow down to cover the boy’s mouth and get the deed done once and for all, he heard footsteps approaching the room and brought the pillow down almost immediately.

“Petyr?” He sighed internally when he heard the voice. It was Lysa, she would never leave him alone. Obviously her brat of a son had been put to sleep, and now she would want him all to herself.

“Petyr, what are you doing here?” Lysa Arryn asked, her voiced laced with curiosity.

Littlefinger the expert liar, the expert manipulator schooled his face into a blank mask as he turned round to face Lysa. “I was just coming to see how the children were doing my love. Sansa’s been so unwell recently. I thought I just do her a favour and check up on them.”

It seemed Lysa had been fooled by that when she nodded and moved to turn away out of the room, but then she spotted the pillow in his hand and her eyebrows quirked up in confusion. “Why do you have that pillow in your hands Petyr? Were you planning on sleeping here tonight?” He could tell she was beginning to grow jealous, and more paranoid. She must think he wanted to spend time away from her, he had to change that thought before she began creating a scene that drew half the castle to where they were.

“No of course not my love. I brought the pillow because Sansa’s maid said that her pillows needed changing so this is the one I brought.” He said voice calm, though with a growing nervousness beginning to pool in his stomach when he saw that Lysa did not seem to buy whatever it was he was saying.

“Really, well you might be surprised to know that I visited my niece just now and her maids said that her pillows were fine and that she is doing fine. In fact I came to bring her, her children. So again Petyr I ask what were you doing here.”

Littlefinger could have cursed the gods for this change in mood from Lysa, something must have happened to make her so unbelieving of his tales, what it was though he knew not. He only knew that he had to fix this situation fast before someone else, with a more discerning mind than Lysa Arryn came and questioned him. Putting on his best smile he said. “My love, what I said is the truth. I came here to check up on Sansa’s babies and to make sure that nothing was amiss. The pillow is for Sansa, to make her feel more comfortable.”

Lysa still did not seem convinced in fact when she spoke next her voice was laced with accusation. “Is that so Petyr. Well then, would you care to explain this to me.” She held up a letter that bore the sigil of the three headed dragon and white direwolf of Jon Targaryen on it. He cursed inwardly, that letter would foil all of his plans now. He tried to speak, to explain away the letter but Lysa ploughed on. “Would you care to explain why we have a letter here from King Jon, my niece’s husband asking that you give Sansa back to him or he will be forced to come and take her, himself with his dragons, when I heard you proclaim him dead.”

“My love, that letter is a fake. Sansa’s husband is dead, he was killed in battle. I...”

Lysa interrupted him. “Yes so you keep saying. But when I spoke to Maester Coleman today, he told me that not only is my niece’s husband very much alive, he recently destroyed Tywin Lannister and Mace Tyrell’s hosts at the Trident with his three dragons, and that you sent some of our men to fight for the Lannisters! Explain that to me Petyr!”

He could not, not without giving away his whole game plan, and if there was anything he had learnt during his time in King’s Landing it was to never say anything that might give the game away, even if that meant saying nothing. So he remained silent. Of course whoever had created the rules of the game of thrones had forgotten to mention what to do when confronted by a woman as paranoid as Lysa Arryn.

She seemed to take his silence as confirmation of some unknown insult, for she said, “I knew it.”

“Knew what my love?”

“Don’t my love me, Petyr Baelish. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew it, and I was told it, but I did not believe it. You’ve never loved me have you Petyr, it’s always been Catelyn that you loved even when we were little children; you were always pining after Cat. And when Cat rejected you for Brandon Stark, you turned to me and used me, and spoiled me. You made it so that I could never have any proper and healthy sons for Jon Arryn. You made it so that Robert was born ill, it was your fault that he was born ill. Yours!” She was screaming at him now, he knew he had to get her to quieten down, so he moved closer towards her, she was rooted to the spot, and continued on with her rant unaware of the pillow he was slowly bringing up to cover her mouth. “I begged Jon to bring you to Gulltown, so that we could be closer together. I begged Jon to bring you to King’s Landing so that we could be closer together. I did all you asked. I put the tears in Jon’s wine; I put my own husband to death for you, so that we could be together. I did all of this for you, and what do you do? You kidnap my niece and bring her here when she is heavy with child, and you abuse her and do things to her that would shame any man. Admit it Petyr you have used and abused me for your own amusement and you are a sick and twisted little man, and I never want to see you again.”

She began to move away from him, out of the room. He grabbed her by her elbow and tugged her in for a long and fierce kiss, and then pulled away and looked at her then, she was crying- she was always crying- and said “You’re right Lysa, your right. But I can’t have you blab about this to just anyone, which is why you must die.” With that he crushed her against him and then brought the pillow down onto her face and held it there, whilst he heard her scream into the pillow and struggle against him. He held her there until she stopped moving, and then he laid her down on the ground, left the pillow beside her and walked out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, a guard who was walking past the room saw Lysa Arryn’s lifeless body lying on the floor of the nursery and immediately began shouting for help, he brought Littlefinger into the room where the man mourned the loss of his wife and his step son’s mother, and proclaimed in an angry tone that this was the work of the Lannisters. No one suspected a thing.

* * *

**Grenn**

It was cold, it was always bloody cold at Eastwatch whether that was because it was near the sea or because of the cold and the snow Grenn can never tell. He had stopped complaining of the cold long ago, there was never anytime anymore what with the Wights constantly trying to get over the bloomin’ wall all the bloomin time, they were constantly on alert and were always trying to make up for the numbers they lacked. The attacks had become worse in recent days, ever since they had heard the bellowing of these ancient creatures that some said came from legend and others said were simply giants.

Whatever they were they had been attacking the wall with some ferocity since they had first been heard. Ramming the wall, and breaking it in several places but never actually entering into the lands beyond the wall. Something that did surprise and confuse many of the men, Grenn especially. Surely if the whole purpose of this attack was that they wished to get past the wall, then wouldn’t they cross into the wall when they had an opening. Of course some argued that perhaps these giant ancient creatures were mainly distractions for they seemed to be constantly attacking during the day, wearing the men out for when the wights attacked at night. And once or twice they had even decided to attack during the night as well. That had of course led to many, many deaths and part of the wall had been caved in by the force of their rams, and yet had been fixed like magic the next morning.

These creatures had attacked that morning itself. Charging through in seemingly endless numbers. Ramming themselves against the Wall, breaking it and then swinging their clubs and hammers and whatever other weapons they had so that they were sweeping Black Brothers off of the Wall and onto the ground where if Grenn had seen correctly, his sworn brothers were eaten up by giant flesh eating wolves and spiders, that didn’t even seem to be killed by fire or by oil or whatever it was that killed the wights. Cotter Pyke had told them that morning that they needed to find some sort of weapon, or way to keep the creatures out for the men on the wall had seen an approaching part of wights that evening as everyone else was having dinner. Of course the only other hope they had of holding the wall against these ancient creatures, the wights and the white walkers was in the dragon glass. But of course that in itself was a rarity, much of the dragon glass that the watch had been able to find had been found in Castle Black, buried deep in the cellars. And of course if what Grenn had heard was true they needed the dragonglass more than any of the other castles, for it seemed that the White Walkers were sending their wights to attack Castle Black in full force and some of the White Walkers had even ventured into the attacks as well from what rumours Grenn had heard at dinner, many days ago. Eastwatch itself it seemed was mainly being attacked by Wights and these strange giant creatures- that were not giants- but no one knew what to call them, though they were cutting a bloody path through everything.

Strangely enough the only time Grenn had actually seen the White Walkers had been on the Fist of the First Men when the ranging party led by Bowen Marsh the old pomegranate had been ambushed by the Wights and several of the creatures that ruled the night. Since then it had only been one long struggle against Wights, for it appeared that the White Walkers were still unable to cross the Wall, only the Wights could but they were clumsy and could be easily dealt with, if you had enough men on watch and enough fire to pass around. So it was with great surprise that Green heard one of his sworn brother’s blow their horn three times signalling the attackers were White Walkers, drawing his sword and running out onto the battlements to get a better look, Grenn nearly shat himself there and then for what he saw terrified him like nothing else ever could. Coming towards them was a host of wights numbering in the thousands and being led by Three White Walkers all of whom were riding what looked like unicorns.

The closer they got the more nervous Grenn got as he waited for old man Pyke to bellow the command to unleash the fire, when the command finally came the undead army was roughly 100 yards away, the fire torches and barrels fell into the oil covered trenches in front of the wall and instantly lit up like a fireworks display,  and it seemed that this drew the wights closer to them instead of away or maybe that was just because they had been running in that undead like state of theirs, and so it was with some grim satisfaction that Grenn saw the flames engulf the first hundreds of wights that did not stop before the flames, as their bodies were turned to ashes, more wights soon joined them until there was a huge pile of ash at the foot of the Wall in front of Eastwatch. This however, did not seem to disturb the White Walkers for though their army of thousands had been steadily reduced to a pathetic mess of undead creatures that were stumbling down to their deaths as the sun slowly rose up, Grenn saw a giant undead bear storming toward the Wall, and as the bear passed unscathed through the fire trenches at the front of the Wall and got up onto its hind legs Grenn saw that the bear was in fact freakishly tall, and had little to no trouble clawing a few of the men who had gotten too close to the edge of the wall to their deaths, and it seemed determined on getting on to the wall itself, Grenn could only hope and pray that it did not succeed.

* * *

**Benjen**

The attacks on Castle Black were becoming so frequent, that he was beginning to worry whether or not they would be able to last another day. Wights and White Walkers had been attacking frequently since that day when ancient animals had come back to life. They attacked in great numbers at all hours during the night, necessitating that those on Watch during the day had to stay awake at night also; it was a tiring process and one that did not seem to be bearing any rewards. They were losing far too many men, their numbers were scarce and their food supplies were beginning to run low. The one disadvantage of there being no Wildlings south of the wall was that they had very few men to actually man the walls and be part of patrols and so often as not, the wights and white walkers would sneak up on them unawares and would end up butchering more and more men. Benjen had sent out ravens to the northern houses asking for help, but so far had not yet received any reply. It made sense though, the majority of the north’s strength was either south with Robb and Jon or had been killed fighting the Ironborn when they had invaded. All that was left now was old men and green boys. But whether or not there would be a wall left for them to fight for when help did eventually come, Benjen was unsure. Cracks were beginning to appear in the Wall, everywhere, wights slipped through and butchered men when they slept, white walkers though remained in the mist and shadow north of the wall, prowling through the darkness and sending more and more wights at them.

That was when he heard the horn being sounded, once, twice, three times. He ran out of his solar, grabbed his sword and ran down the stairs. He saw it clearly from where he was, a huge host of wights and white walkers and even some of the ancient giant creatures that had been attacking Eastwatch were heading their way. “Defensive positions now!” Benjen screamed. They had to hold the wall at all costs. He used the winch cage to stand on top of the wall with some of the men. “Ready the fires!” Fires were readied; they waited, and waited and then when the Wights were close enough Benjen bellowed “Release the fire!” And torches and whatever else could be set on fire was thrown by the black brothers of Castle Black into the horde of wights that was making its stumbling way down to Castle Black. The usual trenches and torches of fire seemed to hold back the wights for a while and the few that stumbled blindly into the flames were reduced to ash never to rise again. However, it seemed that the flames did little to hold back the White Walkers, and the ancient giants that walked with them. They walked through the flames as if they were receiving nothing more than a bath. He heard a high pitched noise coming from the assembled group of  White Walkers and then the next thing he saw was the giants swinging their clubs and weapons at the wall and he watched horrified as his fellow black brothers were swept off the wall and down onto the ground, where he heard their screams of pain.

The wights were still advancing though, and more and more fire was being used, wights fell, white walkers and the giants advanced further and further. Until there was no more fire left for them to throw. “Retreat! Retreat back to the castle!” Benjen shouted, just as he was about to enter the winch cage he heard a loud cracking noise, and watched as the winch cage fell to the ground crushing many of the black brothers who were attempting to retreat back inside. Then to his horror, he saw the men who had been crushed by the winch cage rise up with broken bones and limbs and begin to attack their fellow black brothers who were all still trying to flee, he watched horrified as the wights began eating into the black brothers killing them and then helping them rise up from the dead as well, and the process repeated itself over and over again until Benjen thought that he might go mad from watching it.  Wights were clamouring up the wall as well from the other side, and whatever black brothers there still were on the Wall being hard pushed to defend themselves. Benjen, found himself locked in combat with some three or four wights at the same time. He had his dragon glass dagger that he had found in the cellars of Castle Black in one hand and his sword in the other. He swished with his sword drawing the wights back, and then when one of them stumbled on uneasy feet toward him he plunged the dagger into its chest, causing a high pitched scream to emanate.  Its compatriots were more stable on their feet and began dancing around the blade, and soon had Benjen pushed up against the wall, breathing heavily and cut in several places. His sword was knocked from his hand, and one of the wights soon had its teeth locked around his right hand, he struggled to shake the creature off, but it held on tightly, he screamed as he finally managed to shake the creature of by plunging the dragonglass dagger into its eye, only to lose two of his fingers as the creature fell, dead.

Two more wights remained, and yet when Benjen moved to attack them they retreated backwards until they fell of the wall. Benjen soon realised that he had been led into a trap, for as he stood on the edge of the Wall looking down he heard the bellowing of a giant, and its club swinging toward him, he did not manage to avoid it and he was winded by the impact of the club striking him in the chest, causing him to fly back and hit a crevice in the Wall. As he began to stumble back up, he heard the high pitched screaming of the giants and the White Walkers and then a more threatening sound. A sound so primal it stirred ancient fears into the hearts of those that heard it. The sound of death, the King of Death.

* * *

**Jon**

They advanced on King’s Landing at a quick pace. Jon and Danaerys riding their dragons, Ser Barristan leading the men on horseback. Robb had been left with some 500 men to protect him at the Trident, when the city had been taken and he was well enough to travel Jon had asked him to come to King’s Landing. They flew mostly in silence, he and Danaerys both still brooding after their latest argument. Danaerys wished to use their dragons to take the city, but Jon had argued against such a notion and had felt vindicated when Ser Barristan had pointed out that using the dragons to take the city could go against them in every way possible. This was mainly because, there were stacks and stacks of wildfire buried deep beneath the city from the time when Aerys Targaryen had ruled and those stacks had laid dormant beneath the city since the time of the rebellion. If the dragons were to be used, and should their flames per chance catch the wildfire the whole city would burn and they would be left with nothing but ashes and charred ruins.

Something about Danaerys’ insistence on living up to the Targaryen words- because to Jon they were not the words he truly related to, for no matter the truth of his parentage he was a son of the north- in almost everything she did, be it living or commanding. Jon had noticed how she had acted around Robb, flirting with him and doing things that were completely no appropriate, he had told her that Robb was married and was to be a father very, very soon, and all she had said to that was that his wife would never know. Jon had been outraged by that and told her to stay away from Robb at all costs unless they were in a war council. He knew that he would need to deal with the whole ruler situation between himself and Danaerys once King’s Landing was theirs and it was something he dreaded. He knew Danaerys would more than likely push for co-rule and he would gladly give that to her, if only she did not insist on marrying him, she was his aunt and more importantly Sansa was still alive and well, although she was in the Vale still and Jon still hated himself for leading the march on King’s Landing when really all he wanted to do was fly to the Vale and rescue Sansa and then kill Lord Baelish with his own two hands.

Jon and Danaerys brought their dragons to land just outside the gates to the city, and gave them to one of the camp followers to keep an eye on. Ser Barristan rode up with Jon’s horse and Ser Jorah with Danaerys’ horse, as expected the gates to the city were closed to them. Jon turned to look at Danaerys and saw that she had the same battle lust and mad glint in her eyes as she did when they had fought at the Trident, he shivered, and said “Remember, we are not using our dragons to take the city. It is too dangerous.”

Danaerys merely nodded, Jon sighed and then turned to Ser Barristan and said, “Bring the rams.” Ser Barristan nodded and shouted for the rams to be brought forward. Jon stood nearby as he watched his men ram the gates of King’s Landing in, he watched as his archers took down the archers that manned the walls of King’s Landing. And then when the gates to the city had broken down, he drew his sword from its sheath and led the charge into the city.

They were met by a score of gold cloaks all of whom had their weapons drawn, but as they were not mounted, and Jon and his men were they were cut down easily. Jon swung, hacked and spliced through the men who stood in his way, and he could feel through his connection to Ghost, as the direwolf tore into one man’s throat after another, all the while his direwolf was growling. Outside Jon heard the dragons roar. He resumed his hacking and slashing, working his toward Aegon’s High Hill. Danaerys close on his heels alongside Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah.  On the steps leading up to the Red Keep, Jon found his way blocked by several gold cloaks and red cloaks. He sighed internally, drew his sword once more and began hacking and slashing through the men, as the bodies’ fell he heard the dragons outside the city walls roar with what he assumed was triumph, they were getting closer now.

There were more men guarding the entrance to the Red Keep, and Jon hacked and slashed his way through them as well. Though he did receive several nicks to his armour, some which dented it and drew blood, but he rode on regardless. Once the men at the entrance to the Keep were killed, he pushed open the doors and rode through the Red Keep, place in his mind- the throne room. The throne room was as expected guarded by two knights of the Kingsguard, who they were Jon knew not, he only knew that if he wished to enter the throne room he would need to kill them.

So it was with deep regret that he dismounted from his horse and advanced forward, Ser Barristan a shadow behind him, Ser Jorah still mounted guarding Danaerys. One of the white knights- a broad chested man with short bandy legs- advanced forward sword drawn, toward Jon. The man lunged forward and Jon managed to raise Blackfyre up in time to block the man’s swing. Their swords broke apart and then the man lunged forward once more, this time Jon swerved to his left to avoid the swing. Then he swung his sword and the man blocked the swing. Then the man swung his sword and managed to get past Jon’s sword and nick Jon in the place where one of the gold cloaks had dented his armour and wounded him, Jon scrunched his face up with pain. But then retaliated swinging and hacking at the white knight, like a mad man. He kept swinging and hacking at the man until his sword was stained red all over and his armour was covered in blood- whose blood he could not tell anymore- and the white knight lay dead on the ground before him. His eyes unseeing. He turned to see that Ser Barristan had dealt with the other white knight, and then sheathing Blackfyre, Jon mounted his horse and then nodded at the door, Ser Barristan pushed the door open and then mounted his own horse. Jon rode into the throne room of the Red Keep riding a black stallion, and found Joffrey Waters sat on the Iron Throne wearing red gilded armour, looking all the world like a miniature Jamie Lannister.

 

 

 

 


	27. The Fall Of The Lions/ Rise Of The Dragons

**Jon**

Joffrey Waters sat atop the Iron Throne wearing red plated armour, a sword resting upon his lap and a sneer on his lips. As Jon looked at the boy who would call himself king, he saw nothing of Robert Baratheon in him, no the boy was pure Lannister, perhaps even more so than his real parents. It mattered not though, for Jon would have to kill him all the same. He would fight him and he would win. He would gain justice for his uncle- the man he still considered to be his father, no matter that he was Rhaegar Targaryen’s seed- he would get justice for Sansa and make this little blonde haired king pay for all the injustices that she had suffered whilst she had been a captive.

As Jon thought about all the things he would make the Lannister King sorry for, he advanced slowly toward the Iron Throne, whilst Joffrey Waters remained seated upon it, almost as if he was terrified of coming down to fight. There was no one left to defend him. The two knights of the Kingsguard were slain; the red cloaks and the city watch were being killed as Jon moved closer and closer toward the Iron Throne. The Lannister army was defeated and nonexistent. Yes the boy was completely alone now. Jon stopped in front of the steps leading up to the Iron Throne, and looked up at the boy who would call himself king.

“I believe, you are sitting in my throne Waters.” Jon said.

He saw Joffrey’s mouth twitch, the sneer getting bigger. “I am the rightful king bastard, not you. This is my throne, mine. And you shall never take it away from me!” Joffrey yelled.

Jon looked at him then, and said. “Some king you have been then. Your actions brought war to the Seven Kingdoms. You beheaded an innocent man, you allowed the people of this city to go hungry. You punished and beat an innocent girl, for the crime of being nothing more of a Stark. I ask you, your grace, what sort of a king allows all of this to happen? Not a good one.”

Jon saw Joffrey’s mouth curl up even further into a sneer. “All those people needed to die. They were nothing more than a hindrance. Constantly begging for more and more. Don’t they realise that I had nothing to give them? And even if I did why would I give it to them. I am the King. Me! Not anyone else!”

As Joffrey continued to vent, Jon nodded his head back by the slightest fraction, and then heard as Ser Barristan and Ser Perwyn closed the doors to the throne room behind them. There would be no chance for Joffrey to escape. Just as he had given Jon’s uncle no chance to escape or to break free from the confines and shackles that had been placed around him, so to would Jon not allow Joffrey Waters to escape nor to come out of here alive.

He looked at Joffrey, and smirked Jon had been in enough battles to know that Joffrey was clearly quite nervous and more than likely expected some form of help to come bursting through those doors. Whether it be through the form of his grandfather’s shade or some other form of help Jon knew Joffrey didn’t care, he just wanted someone to come and help him. Well unfortunately for him, there would be no more rescue attempts. If everything had gone to plan, the boy’s mother and younger brother would be under armed protection as would the boy’s betrothed in the Maidenvault. Any men they might have had as protection would have either been killed or changed sides by now. No, no help would be forthcoming for King Joffrey now.  “If you are so determined to sit the Iron Throne Joffrey, why not come and remove the last threat that there is to your reign. Your Uncles Stannis and Renly are both dead. I am the only thing left to challenge you. If you believe yourself worthy of the crown, come down from the throne and prove it before all of Westeros. Come down and fight me, and we shall see who the right king for the Iron Throne is.”

From the change in Joffrey’s expression, Jon knew that the boy was seriously considering the option, and with no one there to council him against it he would likely accept. Perhaps the boy was foolish enough to believe that simply because Jon had been fighting and warring for the past two years that he would not have the strength nor the energy to fight against a green boy such as Joffrey, if that was what the boy thought he was clearly wrong. But of course Joffrey accepted, and walked down the stairs of the Iron Throne, sword in hand.

The boy’s blade glittered in the light as he walked down the steps, his boots clanging as he walked. Jon moved back a few paces to allow him room to move forward. As he got to the last step, Joffrey’s sneer returned and he said, “Very well then bastard. We shall fight till one of us is dead.” Jon nodded his agreement. Joffrey drew his sword, and Jon unsheathed Blackfyre from its scabbard and drew it ready to fight.

Joffrey made the first move, swinging erratically to the right and missing by a good few inches as Jon managed to swerve to left in plenty of time. He brought his sword up and hit Joffrey in the side of the face with the side of his sword, cutting the boy’s cheek and drawing blood. Joffrey became irate at that and released one more erratic swing, this time going straight for Jon’s chest, but Jon managed to raise Blackfyre up in time to block the swing, and then forced their swords apart, and began his own counter attack.

He swung and slashed, hitting all the gaps in Joffrey’s defences and armour. Denting and cutting the boy and inflicting several cuts on the boy king. Joffrey’s red armour became even redder with his blood. Jon’s sword was singing as it whirred through the air, and continued to hack and slash at the boy. Joffrey was defenceless unable to raise his sword in time to defend himself let alone counter attack. His inexperience clearly showing. Sweat was beginning to role of off Jon’s forehead from the amount of slashes and swings he was inflicted on Joffrey.

With one big swing he knocked Joffrey’s sword from his hands, and then brought his right elbow up to elbow the boy in the face, making Joffrey howl with pain, and forcing him to his knees. Jon brought the tip of Blackfyre to the boy’s throat and stared at him for a long moment. Joffrey began begging for mercy, saying that he would do whatever Jon wished of him, just so long as he didn’t kill him, he would take the black if that was what Jon wished. Jon snorted and said. “What like you let my uncle take the black? No you shall die for the crimes you have committed as king. For the pain you inflicted on the people I love and care about. For the people of Westeros, you shall die.” Joffrey howled once more and died begging for mercy as Jon slit his throat.

Jon watched the boy’s body fall onto the throne room floor with cold eyes, he then turned to Ser Barristan and said, “Ser Barristan have someone remove this body from the room. Throw it wherever they will. And bring me news of how the battle in the rest of the castle is going.”

Ser Barristan bowed, and walked out of the room. Jon moved up the stairs to the Iron Throne and stood in front of it and looked at it. It was an ugly thing that was for sure. All barbed swords and brown and silver, he could not imagine why people would kill for this chair, he would not have it become the symbol of his reign. No he would need to melt it down and start again, with a new throne something more comfortable and more representative of who he was.

He was still standing in front of the throne when Ser Barristan returned into the throne room followed by two men who bore the sun of house Karstark on their armour. The men were carrying in a woman and a boy. Who Jon realised with a start as they were set in front of him were Queen Cersei and Prince Tommem. Cersei looked much more different than she had when Jon had last seen her in Winterfell all those years ago, her golden hair was all a mess, her clothes were torn in several places, and she had several bruises on her face. Prince Tommem though unharmed looked shaken. Jon felt sorry for the little prince, but then turned his attention to Ser Barristan and waited for his Lord Commander to begin speaking.

“The city is yours, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said. “The red cloaks were all killed and the gold cloaks that remained after our initial breaching of the city have surrendered. Lady Margaery has also surrendered and is with her brother Garlan at present.”

Jon nodded and then turned to look at Cersei and Tommem. He was silent for a moment before saying, “Ser Barristan have Queen Cersei put into a black cell. Prince Tommem can stay here for the present. We have much to discuss.”

* * *

**Melisandre**

_It was never truly dark in Melisandre’s chambers. Three tallow candles burned upon her windowsill to keep the terrors of the night at bay. Four more flickered beside her bed, two to either side. In the hearth a fire was kept burning day and night. The first lesson those who would serve her had to learn was that the fire must never, ever be allowed to go out._

_The red priestess closed her eyes and said a prayer, then opened them once more to face the hearth fire. One more time. She had to be certain. Many a priest and priestess her had been brought down by false visions, by seeing what they wished to see instead of what the Lord of Light had sent. Princess Danaerys was in a council meeting with the King and others, discussing what needed to be done with those prisoners had been taken during the storming of King’s Landing, the Princess carried the whole fate of the world upon the her narrow shoulders, Azor Azahi reborn. Surely R’Hllor would vouchsafe her a glimpse of what awaited her. Show me Danaerys, Lord she prayed. Show me your Prince, your instrument._

_She had been mistaken once before. She had believed that Stannis Baratheon was the Lord’s chosen one, had seen it in her fires. Had seen him wielding Lightbringer and dispersing the darkness and bringing the light. Had seen him killing the king of death who rode a pale mare. But then she had seen in her fires the coming of the dragons, and the effect her spells were having on Stannis, how they drowned his will to live and sapped his energy, and how pale and gaunt he was becoming. This had confused her, if Stannis was not the prince then who was? Surely not the Targaryen boy, who now wore the crown? That boy was not fit to be the saviour of the world, he did not know truly what was at stake._

_When Danaerys had come to Maidenpool with fire and blood, Melisandre had been there, had been presented to her in the great hall, where Stannis had sat and watched as Lord Mooton’s daughter was brought before him. Danaerys sat there and watched her with cold violet eyes, emanating a heat so strong and powerful that in that instance Melisandre was convinced that she was the Lord’s chosen. She had said as much to Danaerys, and though the girl’s bear had laughed at her and called her mad and delusional, Danaerys seemed to have taken her words to heart, for instead of having Melisandre executed, she had her freed and then had spoken with her in private._

_Melisandre had been able to win Danaerys to her side, through her explanations and her demonstrations of her skills. It helped she supposed that her dragons liked her as well. Danaerys became her staunchest ally during their war councils, and when Robb Stark came with terms of an alliance, Melisandre urged Danaerys to accept. Of course now they had taken King’s Landing, but King Jon was distracted with the prisoners and wishing to free his wife from the Vale. He was not overtly fussed about the danger coming from the north, the furthest north on pale wings, not yet at least. Danaerys was though._

_Visions danced before her, gold and scarlet, flickering, forming and melting and dissolving into one another, shapes strange and terrifying and seductive. She saw the eyeless face again, staring out at her from sockets of weeping blood. Then the towers by the sea crumbling as the dark tide came sweeping over them, rising from the depths. Shadows in the shape of skulls, skulls that turned to mist, bodies locked together in lust, writhing and rolling and clawing. Through curtains of fire great winged shadows wheeled against a hard blue sky._

_A face took shape within the hearth. Danaerys? She thought, for just a moment...but no, these were not her features. A wooden face, corpse white. Was this the enemy?  A thousand red eyes floated in the rising flames. He sees me. Beside him, a boy with a wolf’s face threw back his head and howled. The red eyes taunted her, spoke words in a dragon’s tongue of death and destruction of fire and ice, the wolf’s headed boy howled once more. Howled a song of blue roses and a love gone wrong, of the pale death._

_The red priestess shuddered. Blood trickled down her thigh, black and smoking. The fire was inside her, an agony, an ecstasy, filling her, searing her, transforming her. Shimmers of heat traced patterns on her skin, insistent as a lover’s hand. Strange visions called to her from days long past. “Melony,” she heard a woman cry. A man’s voice called, “Lot Seven.” She was weeping, and her tears were flame. And still she drank it in._

_Snowflakes swirled from a dark sky and ashes rose to meet them, the grey and the white whirling around each other as flaming arrows arced above a wooden wall and dead things shambled silent through the cold beneath a great grey cliff where fires burned inside a hundred caves. Then the wind rose and the white mist came sweeping in, impossibly cold, and one by one the fires went out. Afterward only the skulls remained._

_Next there was a vision of a black castle, that had been standing for millennia. It was swarming with the dead. Their pale eyes and corpses floated through the field of her vision, through the flames and engulfed the crows that stood trying to defend the land from the constant winter. In the middle of this struggle was a wolf pup, a pup no longer howling for help as he battled the king, the king of death, who rode a pale mare. Melisandre watched transfixed unable to move as the wolf pup swung and hacked and death and as death took the hits one after the other, and bled black blood. But still did not fall, for death is not the end, she watched as Death raised its sword and broke the lines of barriers between it and the wolf pup, he who had cheated death twice before. The barriers broke and death howled a tearful song, a song of blue roses and a love gone wrong, and the wolf pup faltered, for he had heard the song before. Melisandre wanted to scream at the pup not to let death fool it into submission, but of course her screams would not be heard. And she watched transfixed as death brought the wolf pup home to meet its brothers and sister and father and mother. Then she watched horrified as death turned its pale complexion to face her through the flames and smiled its black toothed grin._

* * *

**The Crow’s Eye**

King Euron, the ninth of his name sat his cabin onboard the Silence and brooded. Word had reached him of the battle of Brightwater Keep. Ser Harras Harlaw had led some 300 men from the entrance of the Mander and in the dead of night had led these men to the lightly defended castle. The battle that had ensued had been relatively bloodless atleast for the Ironborn, their losses few the losses for the Florent men that still held the castle had been great. Ser Harras wrote that the keep had fallen, and now belonged to the Ironborn. That was good news. They held the shield islands and now a very important part of the reach was theirs as well. Soon though the Greenlanders would become aware of their attacks and begin mounting a defence. At least that was what Euron hoped they would do. For if they sent more and more men out to defend their lands in the south, that would leave King’s Landing undefended and give Euron ripe opportunity to kill the boy king and take the dragon queen as his own.

Word had reached them as they travelled along the Mander of the fall of King’s Landing and the ending of Lannister rule. Once more the Targaryens and their dragons ruled Westeros. Though there were also rumours of dissension between the two Targaryens: Danaerys and Jon. Aunt and nephew disagreed about most things, in their approach to ruling. Danaerys it seemed was more than willing to be harsh with those who had opposed them, whereas Jon had the soft heart of those of the north, and was more than willing to turn enemies into friends. They also disagreed about marrying each other. Danaerys it seemed was more than willing to marry her nephew, to do as Targaryens were wont to do and keep the “bloodline pure.” Jon however, it was rumoured despised the practice, and did not wish to marry anyone else. In fact Euron’s sources in the capital wrote that the boy was preparing to march for the Vale to retrieve his wife from the clutches of a man known as Littlefinger. Euron desperately hoped that he did, for then that would leave the city largely undefended and leave it in the hands of a woman who had been spurned many times and would likely be looking for revenge, and Euron intended to provide her with that revenge.

One of the boys from the crew of the Silence passed him a note written by one of his captains aboard one of the other ships. It reported that there were enemies’ ships coming down the Mander. Euron nodded at the boy and then put on his armour, making sure to keep his eye patch firmly in place- now was not the time to show the world what truly hid behind that patch, no that time would come soon enough- once his armour was on and his weapon was in his hand, he walked out of his cabin and up the stairs onto the deck of the Silence. There in the distance, but getting ever closer were fifteen ships bearing the golden rose of House Tyrell, they were advancing at a quick pace and would soon be upon them in a matter of minutes. Euron barked orders for the men to be ready for either a cannon battle or for hand to hand combat, and as he heard his instructions being repeated down the line, he saw one of the crew members bring the dragon horn with them, he grabbed the lad and shook his head- not yet, only if they were losing would the horn be blown, not before- he stood on the deck of the Silence and watched as his ships and the ships of the Greenlanders got closer, and closer together.

Horns were sounded on the enemy ships, and Euron nodded for his horns to be sounded as well. In the din that followed, he took a minute to process his thoughts and devise a battle plan and an exit strategy for himself and his ship- there may be no glory in fleeing a battle, but he intended on living and he would do whatever it took to do so- the first cannon blast sounded from the enemy ships, it struck one of the ships on Euron’s far left, hitting the front of the ship and denting it but causing little other damage. Euron roared for answering cannon fire. And watched with some grim pleasure as the Ironborn cannons came firing out and struck the enemy ships denting them, breaking them and sinking them. Something that also happened to the Ironborn ships as well.

Until there was but three ships left on either side. The Mander littered with broken wood and bodies floating on the river and soon to be part of the water once more. One ship which had a rose with a trident sticking through as its head pulled up next to the Silence and its men boarded the Silence, Euron grinned in pleasure- these Greenlanders did not stand a chance- he drew his sword and bellowed for any to challenge him. As it so happened three men advanced on him wearing their armour and the same symbol that adorned the head of their ship. They swung at him but Euron blocked their swings and then punched one of the men in the stomach, kneed one in the stomach, and then hacked the third man’s sword arm of. He then thrust his sword and buried it deep into that third man’s chest and pulled his sword out and watched with satisfaction as the man’s blood came pouring out. He turned to deal with the two other men and parried and tarried their sword strokes at the same time giving no quarter.

In one fluid motion he knocked both men’s swords out of their hands and then removing the patch covering his eye, let them stare at the blue of his iris, and watched as their expressions became one of horror and fear, he laughed then a maniacal laugh and sheathed his sword and then grabbed both men by their throats and squeezed tightly around them until both men went limp and lifeless in his hands. He threw them into the river and then closed the patch once more, drew his sword and advanced onto the next foolish Greenlander to try and attack him. Around him it was chaos, men were dying left and right, it made no matter if they were Ironborn or if they were Greenlanders still they died, and their bodies clogged the river and painted it red. The boy who had come with the dragon horn found Euron once more and nodded at the horn that he held in his outstretched hands once more, and this time Euron nodded once and then walked away from the fighting, laughing all the while. Death would come for all men, and he would rule over the ice and fire, he would be the king of death.

* * *

**The White Knight**

He had served four kings during his time as a knight of the Kingsguard. Each King had their own strengths and weaknesses. He had been given his white cloak during the reign of King Jahaerys second of his name, many thought that Jahaerys was a weak and ineffective king, but he deeply disagreed with that assessment. In fact he believed that King Jahaerys had turned his illness and frail health into an advantage, and had been a very capable king and had worked tirelessly to bring the Seven Kingdoms back to peace after the tragedy of Summerhall. Jahaerys though was human, and his hard working ethic had ultimately been his downfall, and had resulted in his death.

Aerys, Aerys had at the start of his reign shown much promise, he had made hard decisions and had removed the older courtiers that had come into court during the reigns of his father and grandfather, and had worked with Lord Tywin to bring a lasting peace to the Seven Kingdoms. Then the rumours had started, Aerys had grown ever more despising of Tywin Lannister and had begun to try and branch out and had rejected Lord Tywin’s proposal that Prince Rhaegar marry Lady Cersei, an insult Ser Barristan was sure Lord Tywin had never forgotten nor forgiven. Then had come Duskendale, and Aerys had grown more and more paranoid. It was that paranoia that had allowed the seeds of dissension to be sown in the Seven Kingdoms. Barristan had watched in discomfort as Aerys made enemies of once staunch allies. He watched as the king he had been sworn to protect descended into madness, and burning. The first time the King had burnt someone, he had laughed and laughed until he was crying with laughter, later that night Barristan had been on guard duty with Ser Jonothor, as they listened to the King rape his wife, sweet Rhaella. Ultimately it had been Aerys madness and his suspicion that had led to his death, a sword through the back by Jamie Lannister a man sworn to protect him.

Robert Baratheon had been a fine warrior but a terrible King. He had mourned the loss of his Lady Lyanna for his whole reign, and had been cuckolded by his wife and laughed at by his courtiers. He had drunk and spent the money that had been collected in taxes, he had relied on Littlefinger and the Lannisters and the Tyrells to fund the kingdom and to keep the Iron Bank away. For all of that though, he had been a good man, true Barristan had had his reservations about serving him, and had reluctantly bent the knee to him at the Trident, but he had been a good man despite his many faults.

King Jon, now King Jon to Barristan was a complex man. The King had spent most of his life believing himself to be Eddard Stark’s bastard, and then had suddenly been thrown into the spotlight when his lord father had announced on the steps of Baelor that he was in fact the king’s uncle, not his father. The last surviving son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, through his marriage with Lyanna Stark, the true heir to the Iron Throne. Ser Barristan had fought alongside King Jon for most of this war, and knew that King Jon bore the burden of kingship well, though he often had moments where he was frustrated by the things he had to do. Barristan believed that King Jon had the potential to be the best king he had ever served, perhaps one of the best kings Westeros had ever had. The man was kind and thoughtful and cared about the small folk, he did not wish to play at intrigue that much had become clear during the time Ser Barristan had served him and was willing to listen to advice. Plus he was also a skilled warrior something that would likely appease the more martially inclined nobles of the court.

Barristan had watched as his king had sat in small council meeting after small council meeting, since being crowned officially by the High Septon. He had watched as King Jon had sat in judgement on many of the prisoners who had been captured during the war, and the taking of King’s Landing, he watched as his king had granted pardons to the Tyrells, though their wardenship had been taken from them and given to Lord Dickon Tarly, who had then married Margaery Tyrell, and had been given more lands including Brightwater Keep. He watched as King Jon negotiated a peace with the help of his advisors on the small council, and as he dealt with the remaining Lannisters in the capital. Lord Tyrion was spared but would not become Lord of Casterly Rock that had been given to Torrhen Karstark, Cersei Lannister was executed for treason, Tommem Waters would be sent to foster in Casterly Rock with Torrhen Karstark.

When news of the Ironborn invasion of the Reach, reached King Jon’s ears, Barristan watched as King Jon sent Dickon Tarly along with men from the reach including Ser Garlan and Princess Danaerys to deal with the Ironborn. Once those men had been sent to fight, King Jon had sat with the remainder of his small council and had discussed what needed to be done next. Top of his king’s agenda had been rescuing Queen Sansa from the hands of Littlefinger. King Jon decided to leave for the Vale and leave King’s Landing in the hands of his hand of the king, Jon Connington- the man having proven his loyalty countless times over the war and with Lord Stark still injured and recovering, Lord Connington had married one of the ladies from the Stormlands and named Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

The march had taken them four weeks through the heavy snow, King Jon had taken himself, Ser Perwyn and roughly sixty men with him, plus his great black dragon Serrax. King Jon had flown on ahead up the steep mountain pass and onto the Eyrie. And when Ser Barristan and the other men had finally made it up to the Eyrie, it had been to see King Jon standing with his sword drawn in front of Lord Baelish saying something along the lines of “I believe you have my wife Lord Baelish. I have come to bring her back home and away from you.”


	28. Stone

**Jon**

Since King’s Landing had fallen and he had been crowned king, Jon had been kept busy by various things. First of all there had been the issue of what to with the remaining Lannisters. Cersei Lannister had been executed for treason, Tyrion Lannister Jon had decided to keep alive and keep in King’s Landing, of course as Casterly Rock now belonged to Torrhen Karstark, Tyrion could not become lord of the Rock and so instead Jon had made him master of coin, and Prince Tommem was being kept in King’s Landing for the time being as a hostage to Tyrion’s good behaviour. Next Jon had had to deal with his small council. Under Joffrey, the small council had been made up of largely Lannister cronies and supporters, that had all changed, Pycelle had hung himself during the storming, and so the Citadel was still debating as to whom to send to King’s Landing as the Grand Maester though it was likely to be Gormon Tyrell. Varys, the spider who had helped Jon during the war- albeit indirectly- was retained as Master of Whispers, Ser Barristan of course was Jon’s Lord Commander, Prince Oberyn Jon had decided to appoint as Master of Laws so that Dorne would be relatively happy and sated considering that the people responsible for Princess Elia and her children’s deaths were all dead now, Master of ships was still vacant though Jon had a rough idea of whom he wished to appoint, should Theon be successful in reclaiming the Iron Islands from his uncle. Also as Robb was still in Riverrun recovering from his wounds, Jon had decided to name Jon Connington as his hand of the king, Connington was a proven loyalist and had fought amiably during the war, Jon had also made him Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and given back the lands King Robert had taken away from his cousin following the rebellion.

Jon had also then had to arrange on the advice of his small council the marriage of Dickon Tarly, now Lord of Horn Hill and warden of the south to Margaery Tyrell, wedding the strength of Highgarden to the loyalty of the Tarlys. There had been other matters that Jon had had to attend to, and through it all he had been impatient to get to the Vale to rescue Sansa from this Lord Baelish’s clutches. When he had finally had enough of the capital and the small council he had decided to take some men with him and had marched for the Vale, he had sent Danaerys with the reachmen to deal with the Ironborn; he could only hope that his aunt would not make any foolish decisions, now that the kingdoms were theirs. He could only hope and pray.

The ride to the Vale had been long and tense for Jon, the snows were very, very deep and for brief stretches of time he wondered how things were looking at the Wall, and whether or not the Night’s Watch were coping with the winter and the increasing threats from beyond the Wall. Of course most of the time his thoughts were solely on Sansa, and wondering how she was doing, he knew that she had been pregnant when she had been taken, and it was likely that she had given birth now, but all he wanted was her to be back in his arms and away from harm. He would deal with Lord Baelish most harshly, for daring to take Sansa away and if he had even touched her....

When the mountains of the moon came into site, Jon lost patience with keeping pace with the army below him and spurred Serrax on, and soon they found themselves landing right on the courtyard of the Eyrie, where months earlier Sansa had been brought after she had been kidnapped. Jon felt his blood begin to boil when he saw the courtyard, and he heard Serrax begin to growl as he dismounted. Men wearing the blue and grey of House Arryn came running out to see what was causing all the commotion and when they saw Jon and Serrax they drew their swords. Jon laughed and said, “I would not bother doing that good sers. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. Now where is Lord Baelish?”

The men looked at each other for a moment before running back inside and reappearing a minute later with Lord Baelish. Baelish had often featured in some of Aunt Catelyn’s stories of her time in Riverrun; Jon knew that this man had challenged his uncle Brandon for his aunt’s hand, and that he had loved aunt Catelyn. Jon also knew that this man had betrayed his uncle, Lord Eddard when his uncle had served as hand in King’s Landing. Looking at the man, Jon thought that he did not seem so intimidating, he was a short man of slender build with grey green eyes and a small pointed beard, of course Jon noticed that he wore a calculated smile, as if he had been expecting Jon to come all this time. Jon felt his blood boiling.

Baelish spoke first. “Why your grace, this is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jon felt his blood begin to over boil at the nerve of the man; he heard Ser Barristan and Ser Perwyn’s footsteps as he answered. “I believe you have my wife Lord Baelish. I have come to bring her back home and away from you.”

The man had the nerve to look shocked and even a little bit outraged at what Jon said. “Your Grace, I must say that that accusation is most unexpected. What is it that makes you think I have her grace Queen Sansa here?”

Behind him Serrax growled and unleashed a plume of smoke, Ghost growled and bared his teeth, Jon stared at Lord Baelish for a long moment then said. “Because those men who took her from Riverrun, they were Lannister men. Yet they did not take her to King’s Landing and in fact, a little goat I spoke to told me you paid him to bring my wife here. Now why would he say that if it were not true?” As if to emphasise his point, Ghost advanced toward Baelish snarling.

A look of fear momentarily crossed Baelish’s face before it quickly disappeared. He smiled a mocking smile and said. “Why your grace, you can never too trusting of anything a sellsword, for that is what the goat you speak of is. He could have lied to you. And why would I kidnap her grace, when I have been friends with her mother and am married to her aunt?”

Jon admitted the man had a point, but he could not hesitate now, not when he had the man frightened and cornered. Jon was silent for a moment and then replied. “Because, you could never marry Aunt Catelyn, and the Lannisters sent you here to the Eyrie to bring Lysa Arryn to their side, and because your man Lyn Corbray fought for the Lannisters alongside some 15,000 Valemen at the Trident. Now why would he do that unless instructed to do so? Now I will ask you one last time, where is my wife?”

Lord Baelish smirked, and was about to reply when a servant came running into the hall and whispered something into the man’s ear, that caused him to look fearfully at Ghost, then Serrax and then finally Jon. Jon glared at Lord Baelish and said threateningly, “Where is my wife Baelish?” When Baelish did not answer, Jon whistled and Serrax let loose a plume of smoke, and Ghost pounced onto Baelish knocking the man to the ground.

Baelish let loose a terrified yelp and said hurriedly. “Alright, alright. She’s in the Maiden’s Tower. Please, don’t hurt me I will serve you well, Your Grace I promise you.”

Jon merely snorted and that and turned to Ser Barristan and Ser Perwyn. “Ser Barristan keep an eye on this man, Serrax will help you,” Serrax fixed Baelish with a cold stare from his red eyes, rooting the man to the spot. Jon went on, “Ser Perwyn with me. Let us find my lady wife.”

Jon simply ran through the castle toward the Maiden’s Tower, Ghost at his side and Ser Perwyn on his heels. He stopped when he came to a room which had a door engraved with a crescent moon and falcon, from the other side of the door Jon could hear the faint sounds of a woman singing, the song was one Jon had not heard for many years, not since he was a child. He knew then who would be on the other side of the door, and felt his heart tense painfully, it had been so long. He took a deep breath and then pushed the door open. Ghost bounded into the room, causing one of the people in the room to scream in fear. 

“Its alright Sweetrobin, it won’t hurt you. Ghost to me.” Jon had never been so relieved to hear his wife’s voice, as he was in that moment.

He turned to find her sitting on one of the beds, with two bundles in her arms, Ghost sat at her feet. She looked up when he moved toward her a look of complete surprise on her face. “Sansa,” he began.

She looked at him and then said, “Jon? It can’t be. They told me you were dead!”

Jon looked at her then looked at the bundles in her arms. He swallowed nervously, and then said. “I’m not dead Sansa. I never died, I’m here. I’ve come to take you home.”

Sansa looked at him once more then at the bundles in her arms, and said. “I’m so happy you came Jon. I was so scared when they told me you died. I didn’t believe it though. Not for a moment. I would have known it, if you had. I would have felt it I’m sure.”

Jon could merely nod his head, then he looked at the bundle in both her arms, and then looked at her again and cocked his eyebrow. She blushed and said, “Forgive me Your Grace, where are my manners. It would be my honour to introduce you to, your son Brandon,” She raised her right arm, and through the blankets Jon saw a babe with dark brown hair and grey eyes looking at him. She then lowered her right arm, and raised her left. “And your daughter, Lyanna.” His daughter had the Tully colouring, auburn hair and blue eyes. Jon felt something swell in his chest, and he felt his throat begin to constrict. He was looking at his children, his children, with Sansa.

He looked at her then and smiled and then asked. “May I hold one of them, my love.”

Sansa smiled and gave him his son. He held his son in the crook of his arms, and was simply awed by how beautiful his son, his Brandon looked. He looked at Sansa and saw her looking at him then, and he managed to give her a smile, and said “He’s beautiful. They’re both so beautiful my love.”

Sansa smiled back at him and then said, “Just like you, my love. I’m so happy your here. I got scared you wouldn’t come and that’d I’d be left with Petyr all by myself.”

Jon heard something in the tone of Sansa’s voice that he did not like, but decided to say instead. “Of course I’d come. I’ll always come, for you. Always.” He turned with Brandon still in his arms and looked at a small boy who was curled up on one of the other beds, and asked, “Now whose this then?”

Jon could hear the smile in Sansa’s voice when she said, “That’s my cousin, Robert. Lord of the Vale.”

Jon smiled at the boy and said, “Nice to meet you Robert. I’m Jon.”

The boy- Robert- said nothing, merely nodded.

Later, once the children had been put to sleep, Jon was alone with Sansa in the room she had been living in during her time in the Vale. And he listened as she spoke about what had happened to her since she had been taken. He listened with growing anger as she told him about the way the Brave Companions had man handled her on their way to the Vale, and how Lord Baelish had abused her, how he had forced her to kiss him, and do other things for him. By the end of it Sansa was crying, Jon could feel his clothes becoming wet with her tears, from where her head was buried against his chest. He whispered soothing words into her hair and kissed her tears away, and then said. “I promise you Sansa, Baelish will never harm you again. He will never hurt anyone, ever again.”

Sansa snivelled and said, “I’m just glad your okay Jon, I was so worried.”

Jon gave her a smile and said, “I know love, I know. But I’m here now.”

The next day, Lord Baelish was brought before Jon and some of the remaining Vale Lords, and his crimes- which were numerous- were read out, including treason, kidnapping and murder. Jon took some grim satisfaction in declaring that Lord Baelish was to be put to death, not through the Moon Door, though that was a tempting option, nor would Serrax roast the man alive, nor would he be executed, no Jon decided that Lord Baelish deserved to suffer for what he had done and therefore declared that the man was to be tortured, then hung, drawn and quartered.

Once that sentence had been passed, the remaining Lords of the Vale, pledged their fealty to him and Jon got ready to march back south with Sansa, and his children.

* * *

**Dickon**

Dickon Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill and Brightwater Keep, Warden of the South, and recently married to Margaery Tyrell, sat atop his horse in the snow and the cold and wished desperately that he was inside in the warmth next to a fire. Along with Princess Danaerys, he had been tasked with freeing the Reach from the Ironborn invaders by King Jon. And he was determined to do a good job of it.

They had marched south from King’s Landing with a few thousand men and Danaerys rode on one of her dragons- he believed this one was called Rhaegal- they had received reports that the Ironborn were being led by Euron Greyjoy, a man with a fierce some reputation and a more than capable warrior. Though of course the reports they had received indicated that the Ironborn force itself had lost a great deal of men, during the fighting on the Mander, at least that was what the report which had come from Highgarden had indicated. Dickon also knew that an Ironborn force had taken Brightwater Keep and had been marching for Oldtown, though now they were likely marching up north to help Euron and his men.

It appeared that this was the case, as they spotted several hundred tents spread out around the fields surrounding Highgarden, all of them had as well as the various sigils from the Iron Islands, the crowned Kraken of House Greyjoy. A sharp breeze of wind went past Dickon and made him shiver. He remembered all the war councils that he had been a part of during the war. He remembered fighting at Lannisport and then being knighted by the King, and he remembered fighting at the Blue Fork when his father had been killed and he had become the Lord of Horn Hill. He remembered fighting at the Trident when the dragons had come. Out of all those fights and war councils he had been a part of he had never felt as nervous as he did now. He supposed it was because, that that was because this was the first true battle where he had sole command and as such everyone was looking to him- well everyone except Danaerys, but then again she was a Targaryen and that was to be expected- he knew that the plan he had concocted with Ser Garlan had to work, otherwise he would never live down the shame. He was a good fighter, he knew that, he had always been good with a sword, but his father had been a brilliant tactician and commander as well as being good with a sword, Dickon had never truly commanded anything before, he had always watched and listened when his father gave him military advice but that was completely different from leading in an actual battle. He had found that out at the Trident, to his peril.

He heard horns being blown, and drew Heartsbane from its sheath and said a quick prayer to the Warrior for strength, and then led the charge into battle. He hacked and slashed his way through the Ironborn defences, earning a few cuts and dents in his armour as a result. Mainly though it seemed that the Ironborn were not as disciplined as the other warriors he had fought during the war, for their strokes and thrusts were quite lax and clumsy and they fell easily to Heartsbane’s sharp edge. He kept hacking and slashing until he had painted both the ground and his sword red, with Ironborn blood.

 He kept hacking and slashing his way through the Ironborn ranks, bloodying his sword and the ground. Sparks were flying of off his sword, and his horse was neighing frequently and rapidly. The bloodlust was on him. He kept swinging his sword, cutting down opponents’ right and left and centre, until there was no one standing in front of him. He turned his horse around and began the process once more, cutting, hacking and slashing at any man that came too close to his horse. He chanced a quick glance around the battlefield and saw that his men were coming out largely on top in the battle. The Ironborn appeared tired and lax in their defences and fighting and many of them were falling to the ground like flies. The snow covered ground was littered with dead bodies, and had been painted red.

Dickon turned his horse to where he saw a hub of activity. He found one big brute of an Ironborn wielding an axe like it was nothing more than a tooth pick, the man was bringing down men with relative ease. Dickon yelled at the man through his helm and swung Heartsbane at him, cutting him on the shoulder. The man grunted and swung his axe at Dickon, he missed Dickon but got Dickon’s horse, burying his axe into Dickon’s horse’s neck, when he pulled out the horse began to fall down to the ground. Dickon managed to yank his feet out of the stirrups in time, and jumped out of his saddle and rolled into a ball on the ground when he felt the vibrations of his horse hitting the ground. He managed to get up and just about block the Ironborn’s axe swing with the edge of his sword.  Their weapons were locked together for a long moment, sparks began to fly of the weapons and they could be heard groaning along with the wind and their owners’ harsh breaths. Eventually the weapons broke apart, only to meet each other once more in a screech of steel on steel, this time the contact was much longer and ended with Dickon being cut on the hand, blood began to pour out of the cut and became visible on his gauntlet. The wound was in such a place that it made it difficult to grip Heartsbane with both his hands. So he had to alternate, to lessen the pressure on the wound.

As a result he managed to knick and dents the Ironborn’s armour in several places, but the Ironborn managed to knick and dent his armour as well, and it seemed to have much more of an effect. Soon the man managed to force Heartsbane from his hands, and forced Dickon to his knees. Dickon was preparing for the end when he heard, the sound of a horn being blown and a roar of a dragon, and then flames, orange and yellow flames became visible, Dickon could feel the heat of them through his armour, and he began to laugh.

* * *

**Jon Connington**

It had been seventeen years since he had last been in King’s Landing. Back then he had been Hand of the King also, he had been younger and his hair had been less grey as well. He had been appointed Hand by Aerys, as the Mad King had wanted someone of an age with Robert to match the man’s youth and vigour. Jon had been honoured by the appointment and wanted to use the opportunity to prove himself worthy of Rhaegar’s love and respect, in short he wanted the glory of being the one to slay Robert Baratheon once and for all. Of course it had not gone to plan. The people of the Stoney Sept had hid Baratheon, had hid him until the combined forces of Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully had arrived to relieve him, then the rebels had fought back fiercely, and Robert had survived, Jon had only just managed to retreat to King’s Landing with his life, but he was cowed, like a dog with his tail between his legs. Aerys had not looked favourably upon the course Jon had taken and so had exiled him and stripped him of his lands and titles.

That had been seventeen years ago, and since then Jon had served as a sellsword with the Golden Company and then he had spent twelve years raising a boy he had believed to be his silver prince’s son, but of course the boy had not been his prince’s son, no the boy had been an imposter. The boy had been called Aegon alright, but not Rhaegar’s Aegon, no this Aegon had been the descendant of Aerion Brightflame a Targaryen but not the right one. He had been devastated when the boy had died, he had raised him like his own son, but then to find out that the boy had not been whom he had thought he had been all this time, had destroyed Jon, he would have given up then and there had the cheesemonger not told him that one of Rhaegar’s sons did still actually live. He had been sceptical at first and who could blame him, but then the cheesemonger had gone onto tell him and Lady Lemore- Lady Ashara now, he supposed- about the Tower of Joy and the fighting that had gone on then, Ashara had confirmed that, but she had told him later that she had always thought that Aegon was actually Rhaegar and Elia’s Aegon.

Jon of course had then agreed to help this son of Rhaegar’s, for though the boy was the son of the wolf whore as well as Rhaegar’s he was still Rhaegar’s son and the boy needed Jon’s help, and Jon wanted to help him to get the bells in his head to stop tolling. His and Ashara’s first point of call had been to help the Lady Sansa escape; they had done that and had won the boy’s favour.  King Jon looked nothing like Rhaegar, he was all Stark, in fact he looked more like Eddard Stark, than Rhaegar Targaryen, but as Jon had come to know over the years, looks were not everything. There was something about the way King Jon carried himself that reminded Jon about his silver prince, there was some sort of melancholy about the king that was all Rhaegar. He was capable, that much was true, it was apparent that the boy was a born leader of men.

They had taken King’s Landing, and then the king had proven himself once more, at least in Jon’s eyes. He had spared Tommem Waters, and had decided to keep him in King’s Landing as a hostage for the boy’s uncle’s good behaviour. He had kept Varys on the council, and had rewarded those who had been loyal to him throughout the campaign. Then had come the surprise for Jon, he had expected the King to name Lord Stark as hand of the king, considering the two had grown up together and were like brothers, but not the King had named him, Jon Connington as Hand of the King and Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Jon knew not what he had done to deserve such an honour, but he accepted it as humbly as he could, and began rather reluctantly the task of looking for a bride for himself. He would have preferred it if he could have simply remained celibate or marry Ashara, but he knew that if the Stormlands were ever going to be truly loyal to the King, he needed to marry someone from the Stormlands, Stannis Baratheon’s daughter was too young, and would likely die from her greyscale, the one lady Jon had had a slight crush on when he had been a lad, had been married for seventeen years now and had had three children with her husband, though said husband had died in the war.

Jon found the prospect of finding a bride quite daunting and so decided to spend most of his time helping to run the realm. Something that had become especially important since the king had gone to the Vale to rescue his wife from the clutches of someone called Lord Baelish, whom Varys had informed him was a very, very devious man with a dark past when it came to the Starks. With the king away it had fallen to Jon to help manage the day to day running of the kingdom, make sure that the healing process after two years of war was carried out smoothly, and that any debts that the throne had were repaid off. It helped that Casterly Rock essentially belonged to the throne now, for Jon was able to use the vast amounts of gold and other such treasure that had been taken from the vaults of the Rock, to appease the Iron Bank and any other people that the Lannisters and Robert Baratheon had seen fit to borrow from over the years. The citadel had named Gormon Tyrell as the new grand maester, replacing Pycelle the man who had been in King’s Landing since the days of Aegon the unlikely, but had forgotten his vows in his last few years, and had been a Lannister puppet. The man had killed himself whilst the storming of King’s Landing had been going on around him.

The relatively good mood Jon had been in that day was ended when he read a letter that had come from Castle Black addressed to the king. It stated that a millennia old threat had returned and was threatening the Wall and the north, help was required urgently.

* * *

**Bran**

_It was getting colder and colder. That much Bran could tell, from the ways the trees swayed outside, and the way Jojen was beginning to fade away right before his very eyes, the day of the crannog boy’s death was fast approaching, and there was nothing Bran could do about it. Meera had become very, very withdrawn as Jojen’s health had worsened, to such an extent that she hardly ever spoke to Bran anymore. Bran felt so lonely and so afraid and so guilty most of the time that he was not dreaming. It was because of him that Meera and Jojen had come north from Greywater Watch, it was because of him that they were here in the lands beyond the wall in the freezing cold and the snow, unable to return home safely for fear of being attacked by wights and White Walkers.  Sometimes when things got really bad for Bran, he would think back to that day when he had climbed the broken tower in Winterfell and had been pushed, he was sure of that now- he never fell- if he had never climbed that tower, he would never have seen whatever it was that he was not supposed to see, and he would never have been pushed and his legs would have been broken, and he would not have had the dreams about the three eyed crow, and perhaps they would never have had to leave Winterfell._

_Oftentimes though, other thoughts would come and combat those thoughts. Bran would sometimes think that an older more wiser version of himself would answer back to his guilt saying that, if he had never climbed that tower, then he would never have seen the three eyed crow, he would never have known about the Ironborn attack, and then they really would have been dead. He knew Rickon was safe, that he was with mother, he had seen it in a dream. He knew that Jon had taken King’s Landing, he knew that Sansa had been kidnapped and then rescued, he knew all of this because he had climbed the tower, the older voice argued. The voice argued that it had been because of him that Jon had known where to look for Sansa, that because he was so linked with the trees and the animals that he had been able to guide Jon’s conscious to where Sansa had been taken._

_The older voice also argued that Bran still had a part to play in deciding the fate of the world. Bran often asked himself how, but the older voice would simply reply that he would know soon, and then he would have to make a decision. He had asked the three eyed crow about the older voice once or twice, and each time the three eyed crow had said that he had never had an “older voice” speak with him when he had been learning the ropes to his powers, but then the three eyed crow had gone onto reassure Bran by saying, that it was clearly just a sign of Bran’s greater powers and how he was special that way. But Bran often found himself wanting to shout and scream at the Three Eyed Crow, at the Children and at the Older Voice that he was not special, he was just a boy, a broken boy, who was far from home and who was so scared that he sometimes wished for his mother and father._

_Of course it did no good to voice such thoughts out loud, for the three eyed crow would not say anything, the older voice would merely chastise him and tell him to stop acting so childish and the Children would often leave him alone or make him eat more of the foul smelling paste. His thoughts changed suddenly, but he was used to the sudden change in thought process that he no longer got scared when it happened._

_This time, he watched as a man wielding a sword of glass fought the walking dead. He watched as the dead fell one by one into their final death, but more kept coming and as more fell, they were replaced by more and more wights until the man with the sword of glass was overwhelmed as was eventually killed, torn limb from limb never to walk again. Then the vision altered and, a woman with silver hair and violet hair rode a green dragon, and burnt fields and men to ash, laughing all the while a mad glint in her eyes. He watched as a kraken with a kissing eye and a dark eye blew his horn and tamed the dragon and the girl, only to be burnt alive by the dragon that he had tried to tame. He watched as a red haired lady said word upon word in a foreign language, and created a shadow of fire that burnt through the krakens ships and burnt the men who lived on those ships. He watched as the dragon girl and the fire priestess sang together, they sang an ancient song, but it was not the song of ice and fire. No this was a song of fire, just fire, orange, yellow, black, red, it made not matter they sang a song of fire and out of their fire and ash, rose a creature so tall and so bathed in light Bran found it hard to see what the creature looked like. The woman and the dragon girl bowed before the creature of fire, and Bran watched unable to say anything though he knew what would happen next, as he watched the fire creature swallow the fire woman and the dragon girl whole, and then let loose a terrifying roar. The lands caught fire, and all the while the sounding of a woman’s laughter rang throughout the vision. In his weirwood throne and in the vision Bran shivered, the laugh scared him it did not seem normal, it did not seem from this world._

_The vision altered, and soon Bran found himself looking at the ground from a height. It took him a moment to realise he was flying! Not on the wings of a crow or a bird, no this animal was something much bigger, something much more primal and fierce than a bird, and it was heading north, toward him. Before the vision ended, Bran saw the wings of the animal, they were snow white, the creature let loose a pale gold shot of flame, and roared. The Dragon was of the north, and was coming home._

 

 

 


	29. Fight For The Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is the final chapter. Just wanted to say a huge thank you to all of you lot, for reading and commenting on the story. It means a hell of a lot to me. So enjoy this one. Its for you. :)

**Jon**

They had been back in King’s Landing for three days, Jon and Sansa spending all of the time that either of them were not locked away doing their respective duties, with each other and their children, when one day during a small council session Jon Connington gave Jon a missive that had come from the Wall some weeks ago, writ in his uncle Benjen’s hand, and detailing the crumbling of the wall and the oncoming invasion of white walkers and the death that they brought with them. At first most of the small council and the lords still in King’s Landing were sceptical of whether or not this news was worth actually acting on, and some even went so far as to suggest that uncle Benjen was slowly beginning to lose his mind as Lord Commander. Jon had been outraged at that and had ordered that all the lords of the Seven Kingdoms begin martialling their troops, for war.

Of course there was one small problem, Lord Dickon and Danaerys were still in the reach fighting the Ironborn, at least that was what Varys’ little birds were telling him, and so that was what Varys told Jon. Jon had sent numerous ravens to Highgarden, to Horn Hill to wherever they might be asking them to come back to King’s Landing, but as of yet had received no response from either Lord Tarly or Danaerys, and he was beginning to worry. To further compound his worries was the fact that after two years of nonstop war, most of the kingdoms’ armies were severly depleted and any men that were left of fighting age, would most likely be needed to help keep their families and their lands safe during the current winter, and as such would be reluctant to truly leave their homes and their families again.

Jon could understand that, really he could. He felt like his whole life had been one constant battle since that day they had learnt that Lord Eddard had been arrested. After two years of fighting and scheming, after having watched good men die in their thousands, all he wanted to do was simply stay in the Red Keep with Sansa and their children and never ever have to lift his sword again. But of course that was just a dream, just an illusion. He was the king now, and he had been raised to respect the Watch and to know that if the Watch ever requested help, it was his duty as a northmen, and now that he was king his responsibility to answer that call for help as best he could. So after much deliberating and arguing with his small council and his lords, he managed to assemble a host of sorts that would march north to help defend the wall and possibly the realm from the White Walkers.

The day before he and this host were about to march, he received a raven from Riverrun from Robb, detailing how Robb had recovered enough from his wounds that the maester at Riverrun had deemed it prudent it enough for him lead his men again. Robb had stated in that letter that as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North it was also his duty to ensure that the Wall was aided, and as such he was marching with the men from the Riverlands and with the northmen who had returned to Riverrun following Jon’s coronation. Jon estimated that since the raven seemed to have been sent out weeks ago Robb was likely either at the Twins or near Moat Cailin by now.  Whether or not he had taken Aunt Catelyn and Arya and Rickon with him or not Jon did not know, he only hoped that wherever they were that they were safe.

Then the day of his own departure for the Wall had come, and Jon had never felt so reluctant to leave, as he had then. The night before he and Sansa had spent as much time as they possibly could memorising each other, spending as much time trying to remember what other looked like, smelled like, tasted like, for if this was to be the last night that Jon spent with his wife he wanted it to be memorable, he wanted it to be special. The morning had come too soon, and Jon had woken to find himself in bed with his wife, his arms wrapped around her protectively, her head buried underneath his chin, her hair splayed across his chest, and he had felt such fierce love for her, that had she asked it of him, he would not have left for the Wall to fight a foe that might possibly be unbeatable, he would have stayed with her in King’s Landing and watched their children grow up right before his eyes. But of course when she woke, she merely smiled and kissed him, and said not a word. Not a word till they had both broken their fast, and were changed and were standing in the nursery looking at their children, only then did she make him promise to come back to her, only then did she shed her tears so that her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed. Only then did Jon solemnly swear that he would do all that he could to return to her and their children.

They had set out from King’s Landing, Jon riding Serrax, his army commanded by Ser Barristan Selmy that afternoon, the snow littering the ground the sun a distant memory. Jon had left Lord Connington behind to rule in his stead, along with Sansa. Jon would sit the weirwood throne, that he had had constructed in the month following his taking of King’s Landing. The throne that gods be willing his son and his son’s sons would sit on for years to come. Carved from the weirwood trees in King’s Landing and from the Isle of Faces, the throne had carved edges in it to represent the weirwood tree in the godswood in Winterfell, with its blood red eyes. Jon was confident that the city would be ruled well, that the realm would be ruled well in his absence, he had to say these things to himself to prevent himself from turning Serrax round and back to King’s Landing.

The further north they got though, the less Jon feared for himself and his men. The more determined he became to end this threat that was plaguing his lands his people. The lands further north they went, were gripped in winter’s firm embrace. The lands were covered with pale white snow, and the wind howled a mournful tune, blizzards delayed their progress so that it took them nigh on two months to make the journey to Moat Cailin, where upon arriving they found Lord Howland waiting for them. Lord Howland told them of how the Wall was crumbling into decay, of how the wights had breached its defences, and were crossing in even greater numbers south beyond the wall and how Robb had set up a defence in front of Winterfell, and was giving battle to them. He told them of how fire seemed to be the only way to really deal with the wights, and how a white dragon had helped curb the number of wights and had prevented their progress from advancing further south. For a brief moment Jon and his men felt hope bloom in their chests, if there was a white dragon here, could that mean that Danaerys and Dickon were here as well, the strength of three dragons could be enough to deal with the wights.

Any sense of hope was further enhanced when Lord Howland told them that the White Walkers were unable for whatever reason to cross the Wall, of how whenever one of them tried they would be crushed under a tonne of solid ice and would evaporate into nothingness. But then Lord Howland had gone onto speak of how, though the White Walkers may not be able to cross the wall they still had other means of wreaking havoc. Blizzards, snow storms, ice falls and giant creatures from a time beyond time were used by the White Walkers to crush and kill men and to weaken the strength of the Watch and weaken the strength of the wall, of how each time these attacks happened the Wall began to crumble a little bit more, and of how the dead black brothers would rise and attack and kill their former brothers and then march south to plague Robb and his men.

Once Lord Howland was finished explaining the situation to them, there was definitely a sense of doom and gloom about the men, but they marched north still. They continued to put one foot in front of the other. They did not flee when they came upon Winterfell, and saw the legions of dead wights trying to break through the shield walls that Robb had had constructed. They did not flee when their swords did little more than annoy these undead beings. They did not flee, they held their ground and were slaughtered by these creatures and when Serrax bathed the dead wights in flame, Jon knew that some of his men were also being bathed in flame, to die by the flames and not suffer a death and rebirth as a mindless creature, it seemed a better fate.

The advancement of the wights from the south continued for a disturbingly long time. It seemed that a year went flying by as Jon and Robb and their men and Serrax and the white dragon, Danaerys had named Viserion- who was still riderless- fought the wights, and killed them and bathed them in fire. Eventually no more wights came from the north, and the scouts they sent out to the north as far as Last Hearth and Long Lake, reported that there were no sightings of wights coming south from the wall.

Of Danaerys and Lord Dickon and their men and her dragon there was no sighting, and when the news of there being no further wights marching from the south became common knowledge a war council was convened. Their losses had been heavy, in the tens of thousands. All said that they would need to re garrison the Wall and stop the threat once and for all, but how they were to do this was the topic that seemed to stir up the biggest arguments. Some were in favour of splitting their force up and manning some of the other lesser manned castles such as East Watch or Shadow tower, whilst others argued for bringing their force all to Castle Black and holding it off there. Eventually it was decided that they would march for Castle Black and once they had assessed the situation there then decided what was to be done.

The snow and blizzards delayed their march north, and so when they reached Castle Black a journey that would normally take a few weeks had taken a month and a half. The scene that greeted them at Castle Black shocked and dismayed Jon. The ground was littered with corpses and burnt with ash, from where the fires had been lit. The wall was indeed crumbling; huge chunks of it were falling off and hitting the ground. There was a haunted and gaunt look in the eyes of the black brothers. Most of them were so thin, it seemed like they would die of starvation before the wights and white walkers took them. The reports Uncle Benjen gave them did little to assuage Jon’s growing anxiety. Though the White Walkers were still unable to cross, their little minions the wights and giants did most of the work for them.  The last uncle Benjen had heard from Eastwatch, had been three moons ago, when they had been assaulted by a fierce attack from a giant bull like creature with a crown upon its head. From what Benjen could gauge from the letter that had arrived, thousands of wights and these giant creatures had attacked Eastwatch, and Uncle Benjen believed rightly or wrongly, that the castle had been overwhelmed and destroyed, and that it was likely that these creatures would not be heading south but toward Castle Black.

When asked why he thought, the creatures would come to Castle Black and not try and advance further south, Uncle Benjen had replied that the White Walkers were not attacking anywhere else but at Castle Black. He was convinced that there was something in the home of the Night’s Watch that the White Walkers wanted, that would allow them to cross the wall, and seeing as they could not get it they would send their minions to do the work for them.

It seemed that his suspicions were confirmed, for three days after Jon and the men arrived at Castle Black, the horned bull with the crown on his head and a score of wights and other giants began their attack of Castle Black. Unlike the wildlings, these creatures were more co-ordinated and seemed intent on out and out killing. Jon used Serrax to burn the wights to ash, but the giant creatures seemed unaffected by dragon flame, even when Serrax and Viserion joined together in blowing their flames on the creatures. At one point Jon feared that they too would be overwhelmed by the creature that was until the crowned bull giant tried to attack him, whilst he was mounted on Serrax. Jon unsheathed Blackfyre just as Serrax moved out of the way of the giant’s fist. Jon urged Serrax closer and then the two of them were engaged in a fierce duel. Jon on Serrax’s back and the bull giant with his club. They exchanged blows, hacks and swings. Cutting each other and bloodying each other until Jon found a soft spot in the bull giant’s armour, his crown. Jon brought Blackfyre down in an arc on top of the crown and when Blackfyre broke the crown in half, the bull giant unleashed a mournful howl and soon dissolved right before Jon’s eyes

It seemed some sort of spell was broken when the bull giant was killed. For its fellow monsters seemed to come to their senses and tried to flee back through the wall, but they were caught between dragonfire and the barrels of fire and the swords of the black brothers and the men of the seven kingdoms. The giants either died screaming as they were reduced to ash or they died with swords, spears and a various assortment of weapons through their bodies.

The joy at the defeat of such fierce a foe was short lived though. For no sooner had the men started cheering the defeat of the giants and the wights, then the sound of a horn being blown could be heard coming from the other side of the wall, followed by the roaring and screaming of what sounded like thousands upon thousands of undead things come to kill and destroy the lands. Sure enough as night fell, and the blizzards began again the giants, wights and even ice spiders came pouring toward the wall. Fire did some to break their relentless charge, but it did not slow them down for long. Soon they were pouring through the crumbling gaps in the wall, and fighting, killing and eating the men, the dying screams of the men could be heard echoing through the courtyard of Castle Black throughout the night. Serrax and Viserion bathed their assailants in fire and Jon used Blackfyre, and Robb used Ice and Andar Royce used Lady Forlorn, and some of the black brothers used dragon glass weapons they had found deep within the vaults of Castle Black, and the weapons had some effect, their assailants fell in great numbers but their assault continued, well into the early hours of the dawn, when suddenly they began to dissolve right before Jon and the men’s eyes and disappeared into the ether.

The attack resumed the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that. In fact the assault of the giants, wights and other creatures seemed to last moons, each day more and more men died and were given to the flames so as not to come back as wights. Food became more and scarcer as the moons went by, till such a point that it became a choice between either dying through starvation, the cold or by being killed by the creatures that always attacked them at night.

Then Danaerys came. Riding on the back of her dragon Rhaegal, she came just as the attacks were beginning. Followed by a thousand or more men, and fire, a walking fire followed her, and it burnt through the wights, the giants and the ice spiders. It burnt through them all and reduced them to ash. But then the wall fell, it crumbled to dust around them once the fire had been extinguished and then all hell broke loose.

Death rode in on a pale horse. The White Walkers, no longer hindered by the magic of the wall crossed in great numbers, and with them came their wights, their giants and more horrible creatures. And they killed the men, slaughtered them split their bodies in half and then raised them up as wights to kill their former comrades, their former brothers in arms. Dragonfire did for the wights and the giants and the ice spiders as did the unnatural fire that followed Danaerys wherever she flew. Jon suspected that, Stannis’s red woman was behind the fire. Some of the white walkers fell to the valyrian blades and the dragonglass, but more still remained to kill and rise up wights to feed their army.

Jon was one such victim. Fighting a white walker, whilst Serrax burnt a giant to death. Another White Walker killed Serrax once the giant was dead. Ripped him from the sky and tore him in two. Then both white walkers served to kill Jon, stabbing him with their ice cold blades through the chest and heart. Jon fell but he took one of the white walkers with him, cutting through the creature and splitting it from head to chest. Then he knew no more.

_He floated through the air, unseen by those around him. Uncaring, all his burdens lifted from him, all the pain, all the death was gone he was at peace. Or was he? He had broken his vow to Sansa, he had died, he would not be able to come back to her, and he would not be able to watch his children grow. He felt something inside of him break into a million tiny pieces, he knew that if he could he would cry, but he could not._

_“You must go back,” said a voice behind him. A voice of iron, from a distant memory._

_Jon turned round and looked for the voice, but could not find its owner. Another voice spoke this time, a more familiar one. “You must go back Jon, you’re not done son. They need you.”_

_Then another voice, this one he had never heard before. “You must return. You are the song of ice and fire. The one that saved the world in the Long Night. You must save the world once more. Or else this time darkness will win and death shall spread like a plague across the land.”_

_“What if I fail? What if I die again?” Jon asked._

_“Only you can tell if you will fail or die,” said the iron voice. “Only you can decide what happens. You are the prince. You are the one, the songs, the books write about. You hold the key.”_

_“Think of Sansa, son. You promised her you would always come for her. You can’t let her down. Not now.”_

_Then a feminine voice spoke to Jon, and he could have sworn he had heard this voice before somewhere, somewhere a long time ago. “You can do it. I know you can sweetling, I know you can.”_

_“How?” Jon asked._

But before the voices could reply, he woke on a pyre of flames. The sound of voices chanting, praying, weeping, crying surrounded him, engulfed him. The battle still raged around him, men were still dying around him. Jon Targaryen, King of the Seven Kingdoms, the father of the black, the last hero, sat up and got out of the fire, his sword in hand. He rode to meet death, fire and ice glistened around him.

* * *

**Sansa**

She watches Jon ride out King’s Landing, her heart heavy and fluttering with nerves in her chest. Ser Donnel Celtigar stands behind her as she watches her husband and his men become distant specks on the horizon. Ser Leyton Appleton stands guard over her and Jon’s babes as does Ghost. Jon had insisted on leaving Ghost here with her and their children, despite her protests. He said that Ghost would protect her and the babes against anyone and anything; he had been so adamant about it that Sansa had relented eventually and agreed to keep Ghost with her or guarding the children at all times. As she makes her way back to the Red Keep, she can’t but help offer a prayer to the Old Gods and the New to keep her husband, and her brother and all the men who ride out to face death safe. She prays that her children will grow up with their father there to see them grow, not as a story, not like Jon’s own parents were to him- though of course they were more the aunt and prince- she wants Jon to be physically there when their children, their babes take their first steps, say their first words, see their first name day, begin to do all manner of things that her mother and father were there to witness the both of them doing. She also prays that Robb and his wife Roslin will be able to live a peaceful live, that they all will once this war is done, and that they all come out of it safe and whole.

She knows Jon will do his best to try and stay to his promise to her, to come back to her and their children. But she can’t help but worry that Jon will put the needs of his men and the kingdoms above the needs of his family. She can’t help it but she also prays that Jon does not take it into his head to do anything heroic, that could cost him his life, cost Sansa her husband and her sanity, cost their children their father. She makes her way to the throne room, to sit on the weirwood throne that Jon had made before he came and rescued her from Petyr and, she knows that Jon would make a fine king, perhaps even the best king Westeros has ever seen, he only needs the chance to sit and rule for longer than he has had since the war began and ended. She sits on the weirwood throne, as Jon’s representative, and listens as the petitioners come forth and present their demands and requests. More food, more water, more space, this person did this to me; this person did that to me. Sansa listens to what they say, and she tries to give a verdict that is as fair and as balanced as possible, though she knows that in some instances may not please all parties involved.

The more she sits and does this and sits in and listens to the lords speaking during the council meetings, the more confident she becomes. It also helps, she supposes that Lord Connington is a kind man as is Lord Varys both of whom are willing to help her learn the more subtle intricacies of court politics and the game, which still goes on even though most of the players are away fighting a war that might determine all of their futures. The citadel finally sends Maester Gormon Tyrell, to be the grand maester to replace Pycelle, and Sansa believes the man to be capable and friendly, and certainly much better at his job than Pycelle had ever been.

Ravens come infrequently from Jon, the further north he gets. But in each one he talks to her about the cold and the snow, and ends each letter by telling her that he loves her and their children and will do all he can to come back to them. Sansa has known Jon her whole life, so she knows to read between the lines and see what he does not write, that the lands are snow covered and littered with the bodies of the fallen, that he doesn’t know whether this is a battle he can win or not. She prays in the godswood more often than not when Jon’s letters come, praying that they give him strength to continue fighting to come home to her and their babes. Jon’s last letter comes to her, when he is at Winterfell, after that there is no more letters and Sansa begins to worry. A year passes without any further contact from Jon or from Robb, and Sansa and the whole of the court begin to grow worried, they begin to wonder. When a second year passes, and there is still no news from the north, most of the court and even the hand begin to give up on the cause and begin preparing for the worst. Sansa though, she retains her faith she prays harder than ever in the godswood that Jon and Robb return home safe and sound.

Sometimes she misses her mother and Arya and Rickon fiercely, she misses the comfort of family. For though Margaery Tyrell and the other ladies of the court do provide some solace as do her Brandon and Lyanna, she itches for the comfort of familiarity, she itches for her mother’s reassuring and soothing tones, and for Arya’s fierceness and Rickon’s wildness. She curses the snow and the White Walkers during such times, curses them for splitting her family apart, just as she cursed the Lannisters and her own foolishness when the Lannisters were waging war against her family.

Jon is not there when Lyanna and then Brandon begin crawling and then walking on unsteady feet. He is not there when they both begin running into Sansa’s arms whenever they see her. He is not there when Lyanna first begins speaking, when she says “Mama,” for the first time, and then when Brandon says “Papa” and Sansa cries silent tears because she knows that Jon is missing so much and it will be eating away at him, just as it is eating away at her. Jon is not there when Brandon and Lyanna see their first nameday, and a cake is made and the nobles of the court both wish them a happy birthday and sing to them. He is not there when they turn two and the court wishes them a happy birthday, and more and more of the men of court who were either boys or to old to go when Jon marched off to war, start trying to gain her favour. One of them being Margaery’s Brother Willas Tyrell, though Margaery is the one dropping hints to Sansa, as Willas is still stuck in Highgarden and cannot pursue her on his own. Sansa plays nice, smiles at all their words but inside she rages, how dare they assume that just because Jon has not written back that they can assume he is dead.

All of that stops a month before Brandon and Lyanna turn three. A boy comes running into the throne room where Sansa is speaking with Lord Connington and shouts for all to hear that banners had been seen in the horizon, coming toward the city. The whole court seems to come live then and they all run out to the gates of the city, one woman- she thinks its Margaery- shouts that she can see the three headed dragon banner of House Targaryen and Sansa feels her heart lodge in her throat, she turns to look at Lord Connington and he merely shrugs, indicating that she should not get her hopes up. Then when Danaerys Targaryen comes to the gate and asks to be allowed entrance, Sansa nods to Lord Connington who shouts at the gateman, and the gate is thrown open, and Danaerys rides into King’s Landing as do a thousand or more men, carrying an assortment of banners and looking gaunt and pale, like corpses. She cannot see Jon amongst those that pass her, though she can see his sigil- the three headed red dragon, quartered with a white direwolf on grey- when the party stops in the streets and people rush to greet the soldiers-the heroes who stared death in the eye and survived, their loved ones- Sansa rushes through the crowd looking for Jon, for her husband and she sees not a sign of him, she begins to panic.

She finds Ser Barristan, who looks several years older than he did before he marched north with Jon, and asks him where Jon is. He looks at her then turns round and points to a spot in the middle of the mass of soldiers, and there she sees her husband- her Jon- standing there his black armour caked in blood and mud and dirt, his helm in his hand, staring listlessly into space, Ghost who followed her down to the streets bounds over to Jon and starts nudging his leg, whining. Jon looks away from where he was staring, and first looks toward Ghost and then toward her, and the look he gives her nearly breaks her heart he seems so lost, so broken. She runs toward him and throws her arms around him, not caring about propeity, not when she has her husband back in her arms. Jon raises his arms and hugs her back, weakly.

She doesn’t give him a chance to speak, though he doesn’t try to. Instead she leads him by the hand through the throngs of people- all of whom stop when they pass by and cheer loudly for Jon- Ghost beside them and Ser Barristan following behind them, she leads him up Aegon’s high hill and into the Red Keep and then through the Red Keep to her room, where Lady Ashara is alongside Ser Celtigar looking after Brandon and Lyanna, both of whom are playing with toys on the floor. When they enter the room, Brandon and Lyanna both stop playing and shoot up, wanting to run to her as they are wont to do, but they stay stock still when they see Jon standing- unseeing- behind her.

“Brandon, Lyanna, say hello to your father.” Sansa says sweetly, trying to keep her voice calm, though she can feel her hear beginning to break, because of the hesitation on Brandon and Lyanna’s faces. They nervously come up to Sansa hug her and then hug Jon quickly before running back to Lady Ashara. Sansa takes a deep breath before saying, “Lady Ashara if you could take Brandon and Lyanna back to their room. I would like to speak with my husband.” Ashara nods and takes Brandon and Lyanna by the hand and leads them out of the room.

Once they have left, Sansa closes the door leaving Ser Barristan outside. When she turns round Jon is still standing clutching his helm, staring listlessly into space, and he is quiet so very quiet. Sansa moves to him and says “Let me undress you my love.” Jon says nothing but he does not stop her as she begins to undress him, first taking his helm from him and laying him on the floor, then removing one piece after another of his armour and then removing his shirt and breeches till he is left in just his small clothes.

She guides him to the bed, where he sits down though he still says nothing. Sansa forces his legs open and then sands between them, running her hands through his curls, trying to soothe him and get him to speak. It seems to do the trick for he finally breaks their silence.

“My own children don’t recognise me.” He says it in a voice so achingly sad, Sansa feels her heart begin to break again.

“They were just babes when you left Jon, they will grow to recognise and love you just give it time my love.” She says reassuringly running her hands through his curls.

“What if it won’t do them any good, knowing me?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not human Sansa.”

“Of course you are, of course you are Jon stop talking nonsense. Your my Jon.” She says.

He tilts his head up to look at her, and she can see so much pain and hurt in his eyes that she wants nothing more to kiss it all away, but she knows she has to let him speak, let him get it all out. “I died Sansa. I died and came back to life on a pyre the men built for me. I died and came back to life. I’m not human.”

Sansa does not know what to say to that, she felt her heart clench painfully when she heard the word die, but then he is here with her. “But you’re here now Jon, and that’s all that matters. You kept your promise to me, you came back Jon.”

Jon buries his head against her chest, she goes on. “What else happened Jon? Where’s Robb?”

Jon mumbles his answer against her dress. “He wanted to stay in Winterfell afterwards. He said that he didn’t want to come down to King’s Landing to attend whatever stupid celebration the southerners and Danaerys planned. Roslin will be in Winterfell now with their son, and your mother and Arya and Rickon will be heading there soon.”

Sansa replies, “You do not wish to attend the celebrations either, do you Jon?”

He moves his head from her chest and looks at her through his curls, his eyes stained red with unshed tears, Ghost wines softly beside them. “No, I don’t. She can have her celebrations all she wants. She came late to the war, her and her bear and the Ironborn. She came late. We were losing so many men Sansa, so many men. And she comes in late to the war and fights with her savages and expects me to reward her. No I won’t go to that pompous feast of hers. Nor will I reward her; she can go rot in Summerhall for all I care.”

Sansa feels angry on Jon’s behalf, and then asks. “What is it you want Jon?”

Jon looks at her, and says “You. I want you Sansa. I want you and our children to be safe and I want never to have to fight another war ever again. I want to spend the rest of my days with you and our children.”

Sansa feels tears begin to well up in her eyes when she replies. “Then that is what you shall have Jon. We’ll rebuild together.” She means it, and she prays to all the gods she knows that she can make it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know Willam Dustin died at the TOJ, but I just wanted to keep him alive for the hell of it. He shall have some relevance later on in the story. Let me know what you think :)


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